Relationship : King/Prince Liam rys x Dutchess/ Queen Riley Brooks ( or whatever is your mc name)
Prompt: -- "what did I ever do to deserve you my dear?" she said, --
It could be angst or fluff or lit anything just that if you take up this I want Riley to say this.
Alsooo, what's your fav character from trr?
I've always loved requests, since it gets my creativity flowing more so than anything else. In other words, yes, you may request a fic 😊 As for my favorite character from TRR, though I adore every single one of them, the honor of fav will always go to Lord Maxwell Percival Beaumont. He always makes me smile and laugh whenever I do a replay of the story. I love him as both friend and love.
Now let's get to the fic 😉 Taking this from Book 2 of TRR. For some reason this turned very, very angsty 😐 Don't know how that happened, LOL.
Masterlist
Out the Window
Fydelia...
"That was exhausting." Riley grumbled once she and Maxwell returned to her room.
Her first night back amongst Cordonian nobles was tougher than she thought it would be. She'd expected doubt and even being snubbed. What she hadn't expected was for Liam to avoid finding a way to talk to her.
Did he really believe she'd fooled around with Tariq? Had he been lying about being in love the night of his coronation just to get sex out of her? He certainly appeared a little too comfortable with Madeleine hanging off his arm. And allowing her to feed him! Ugh. Just the absolute worst thing a person could possibly see.
"I don't think I've ever been this wiped after a Court dinner." Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck. Knots didn't even come to mind when he felt how tense he was back there. Boulders might be a better description for the hard lumps his muscles were currently in.
"This might have been a bad idea." Riley told him while slumping back against her bed pillows.
The skirt of her blue dress flared up, nearly drowning her in its many layers. She batted it down with a huff all while wondering what in the world she was doing in Cordonia. She could easily be back in New York, no worries, no trying to impress a group of people who somehow had photographic evidence of her being the literal worst, and no more draining what little was left in her savings account on ridiculous dresses such as the one trying to smother her.
While Maxwell attempted to help her tame the wild fabric with a mind of its own, a knock sounded making them freeze.
"Who could that be?" Riley whispered.
"Dunno." Maxwell said with a great deal of apprehension. "Maybe Bertrand?"
Riley's nose wrinkled at that possibility. She loved the man, but she was in no shape or form willing to hear another lecture on propriety.
Audibly swallowing, Maxwell cracked the door open.
His dimples popped up in a grin when he was handed a large bouquet of roses.
Riley sat up with a start when he showed them to her.
"Where'd those come from?" She asked.
He shrugged, still smiling. "Maybe from a secret admirer."
Riley buried her face in the fragrant blooms. She took a deep breath, wishing they were magical and could take her away from this place. Opening her eyes, she noticed a piece of paper wrapped around one of the stems.
She quickly unfurled it while a frown formed upon her face.
"What's it say?" Maxwell attempted to read over her shoulder.
"It's from Liam." She crumbled the paper in her fist. "He wants to meet me in his room."
"I don't think that's doable." Maxwell argued. "His room is all the way on the other side of the castle. You'd never be able to get over there without dozens of people seeing you."
Riley briefly eyed her window.
"Don't even think about it!" Maxwell exclaimed when he realized where her mind was at.
"I'm not stupid!" She snapped.
Then again, she realized she just might be for even thinking she had a chance with Cordonia's king.
Seeing the worry upon her best friend's face, she reached out and hugged him.
"I'm not going out the window." She reassured him.
She glanced down at the wad of paper in her hand and decided to have a note of her own delivered.
"Hey Max?" You can easily see Liam, right?"
"Yeah."
She rushed over to a desk and pulled out some paper and a pen. Sitting down, she tapped the pen on her bottom lip while thinking of what she wanted to say to the man she'd once thought of as Prince Charming.
Her eyes narrowed the longer she considered her circumstances. After all, she chased after Liam for months, while he had a virtual harem at his beck and call. What if the night with Tariq had been her doing? It wasn't like Liam had made her the only woman in his life. Practically every moment they stole away from the court had him mentioning he should pay more attention to the other ladies. Why would she even think he felt what she'd felt?
She'd made every first move, whether it was in initiating conversation or kissing him. All that she'd attempted to do and the results she'd received all pointed to one thing.
Maxwell's eyes widened at the vicious swipes her pen made as it furiously moved across the paper. He was surprised she wasn't ripping through it as she dotted i's and crossed t's.
Once she was satisfied with all she'd written, she folded it and placed it in an envelope.
"Here you go." She mumbled. "I'm pretty sure after Liam reads this that there won't be anymore flowers delivered."
."You sure you want me to give this to him?" Maxwell hesitated at the door. "Maybe you should sleep on it instead."
Riley squared her shoulders. "No, I want you to take it to him. At least then I'll know I said everything I wish I could have in person."
Saying a quick prayer that Bertrand wouldn't kill them both for this, Maxwell made his way through Madeleine's home in search of Liam.
****************
Liam tore into the envelope while Maxwell attempted to soften the blow he knew was in that letter.
The young king's brow furrowed as he read through Riley's feelings and views of not only the actions of the Court but also in his own choices concerning her.
His eyes widened at the end.
Now I know without a doubt that I shouldn't have ever come here. Not for you. Not for adventure. Not for anything. I'm stuck here for the time being in helping restore Bertrand's and Maxwell's reputations. They are the ONLY ones who mean anything to me. I ask that you help me fix things for the Beaumont's (which I believe you owe me after dropping me faster than I could blink after seducing me in your ridiculous hedge maze). Once they are back where they need to be, I will leave for home and you will never have to see me again.
Riley
P.S. No more roses or flowers of any kind. If you knew anything about me, you'd know I hate cliché romance crap like this.
"She can't mean this." Liam crumbled the letter, refusing to accept any part of her dismissal of himself.
"Weeeellllllll." Maxwell hedged. "I think tonight was the last straw."
When Liam merely blinked at him, Maxwell continued.
"You know? The straw that broke the camel's back?"
"I know the idom!" Liam snapped in frustration. "But what happened tonight to make her feel this way?"
"Oh, well, um, you didn't talk to her." Maxwell explained.
"Of course I did!" Liam argued. "I greeted her warmly, or as warmly as I possibly could given the circumstances."
"You haven't spoken to her about being dragged out of the castle." Maxwell pointed out. "Why you chose Madeleine over her, or why you did it after sleeping---"
Maxwell slammed his hand over his own mouth for letting that major detail slip.
Liam winced at his oldest friend knowing how badly he'd behaved with Riley. Granted, he had not intended for that night to end with seeing the one he truly loved treated so horribly. And yet, he'd stood there with no emotion while it all unfolded.
Clearing the regret out of his throat, "Be that as it may," Liam searched for a way to explain. "That was why I wanted to secretly meet with her here. I want to explain to her my reasons for everything that happened that awful night."
"Sorry, but no can do." Maxwell told him about the distance between their rooms.
Liam glanced down at the crumbled paper in his hand. He couldn't allow another second to pass with Riley believing he was nothing short of a cad. He had to speak to her in person and plead his case. He needed to see for himself if there was any chance for her to forgive and believe that his heart was truly hers.
Raking his hands through his hair, he looked about the ornate prison of a room he was stuck in for some inspiration. Surely there was a way to leave this suite without anyone being the wiser.
His eyes lingered on the double doors of his balcony.
Maxwell felt a sense of deja vu. Surely he wasn't friends with two people who were crazy enough to precariously climb their way to one another?
Liam took off his coat, ordered Maxwell to make sure Riley's window was unlocked, and made his way outside his balcony.
Maxwell dashed after him and watched as the new king began the dangerous path to the woman he loved.
****************
"Did you give him my letter?" Riley asked when Maxwell returned.
"I did." He casually eased over to one of her windows and opened it.
"What are you doing?" She paused in turning back the bed covers.
"Seems stuffy in here." He mumbled on his way out the door. "Doesn't it seem stuffy to you?"
"I figured it was all the nobles polluting the air." She teased. "Of course, you're an exception."
He grinned at her as he prayed she wouldn't hate him for what was about to happen next.
"Sweet dreams, blossom." He quietly shut her door.
Riley took a deep breath and made her way over to her open window. She felt a touch better at having vented all her frustrations in her letter. She could actually look about her with interest now that all her bottled up emotions had been set free.
She couldn't deny that Madeleine's home was lovely. The sandstone castle walls gleamed in the moonlight, giving an almost mystical feeling. Soft music and faint rumblings of voices drifted on the wind, reminding her that tonight's celebration of the newly engaged couple was slowly coming to close.
Her heart ached that she was still here. Even though Maxwell and Bertrand deserved her loyalty, she wondered if it wouldn't be better for them and herself to leave Cordonia.
"How am I going to even begin to prove my innocence?" She mumbled.
A dark shadow passed overhead.
A muffled scream squeaked out while she stumbled back in shock.
"Forgive me." Liam panted once he was straddling her windowpane. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"What in the hell are you doing here?" She snapped once she was able to still her racing heart.
"I believe you are aware I wanted to see you." He began. "I--"
"And I believe my note showed how little I wanted to see you." She bit out.
"Please." Liam caught her hand when she turned away from him. "Allow me to explain."
Yanking her hand away, she folded her arms and grumbled something about the nerve of kings and their stupid authority.
Liam nervously swallowed. "I don't even know where to start other than that all I've done, I did for you."
Riley's suspicious glare turned to one of complete anger.
"Whatever did I do to deserve you, my dear?" She said in a fake syrupy sweet voice. "To think you got me to sleep with you just so you could have the strength to propose to another woman."
She pretended to wipe a tear from her eye.
"You're so thoughtful."
Liam rubbed his hands over his face. He could see how his actions looked and that she truly thought the very worst of him, but he had to try.
"I did it to protect you." He tried again. "I--"
"Good job on protecting me." Riley snickered in derision. "Not only is my reputation destroyed, but I was also publicly humiliated by being dragged out by guards as if I'd stolen the Crown jewels."
"I know." He said with a great deal of remorse. "Please, just hear me out before dismissing me from your life."
Riley rolled her eyes. Knowing she'd never get any sleep if she didn't allow him his say, she reluctantly agreed to listen without interruption.
Liam told her about his mother's death along with his fear of the same fate befalling Riley. He did his best to reassure her that he still planned on them finding a way to be together.
Her eyes narrowed when he told her that Madeleine agreed that they could still maintain their relationship in secret.
"Hold on." Riley interrupted his profession of love. "You not only expect me to conduct an investigation, on my own, into whoever set me up, you also want to conduct an affair in the midst of it?"
Her hands balled into fists.
"Are you insane?!"
Liam took a step back.
"Liam, I'm a waitress! An unemployed waitress! How do you expect me to do better than a freaking king with unlimited resources and power at his fingertips?" She demanded.
"I can't use the king's guards." He pointed out. "If it's someone within the Court, then your safety might be--"
"Then hire someone outside your palace!" She snapped.
"But I--" he tried to speak.
"No, you know what? Forget I said anything!" She stormed over to the window he'd climbed through. "I'll do it all since you're too much of a coward."
He stumbled back in disbelief.
"Riley, I love you." He argued. "I'll move heaven and earth for us to have our happy ending."
"If that were true then you'd have not only picked me that night, you'd have already cleared my name." She gestured towards her window. "Now if you'd be so kind, your majesty, I'd like you to leave."
Liam felt his heart drop. Her cold demeanor left little hope that she could find her way to forgive him.
Squaring his shoulders, he walked over to her and dropped down to one knee.
"What are you--"
"I'll fix this." He declared. "Whatever it takes, I swear I'll clear your name."
He carefully took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
"Then I'll do all I can to win your heart again." He vowed. "I don't care how long it takes, we will have the life we dreamed of on our date."
Riley blinked back tears. The last thing she wanted to do was to be swayed by his words. Hadn't she gotten hurt the last time she believed him?
"We'll see." She said.
Liam felt like a knight who'd been given a sacred task by his queen. Bowing his head, he tenderly kissed her hand once more. Getting to his feet, he climbed through her window to begin his journey back to his lonely room.
He thought of how he'd solve this problem. Riley was right. It was foolish of him to think she could easily investigate whoever set her up. He also shouldn't have asked her to basically become his mistress.
"I won't lose her." He grunted as he pulled himself over the railing of his balcony. "I will save her and our chance at happiness."
Did you miss me? I know it has been forever. But here i am!
I have been wanting to come back and life has been well you know what it does . Here's what I've been working on. It's not much but i'm trying to finish some story lines that have been out there for quite some time, and I finally think it's time. It also didn't hurt seeing a post about reviving the TRR fandom, if anyone still wants to read me. I know I like to push the envelope at times. Drama has returned. :)
Series: The Rotten Apple 🍎
Chapter: 17: Finale Part 4: The Wedding
The Pairings: Eleanor X Nico (Eleanor X M!OC / Liam X Riley)
“Her Mother and Her Father.” He whispered the word “Look.” to Ellie.
Elle blinked rapidly in confusion, as she turned to the audience.
Riley was standing right behind her.
“Mother…”
Riley said the first thing that popped into her mind.
“I didn’t RSVP. I know that’s absolutely horrible etiquette for a wedding. I'm sorry..”
“It’s okay….”
“You look…. Happy.”
“I am happy Mother.” She pulled Nico by his hand closer to her.
“Queen Riley.” Nico nodded to her.
“Nico, I told you then, you still cared for her. I could see it all over your face."
“And you were right.”
“You look so beautiful Ellie. I'm glad you decided to wear the necklace."
Elle surprisingly glanced down at herself, gently touching the necklace.
"It was your idea?"
Her mother nodded, and spoke in a matter of fact way.
"Yes, It looks beautiful on you, I knew it would."
“Thank you Mother……And thank you for coming."
Riley turned to walk away. Nico gently squeezed her hand again, whispering to Elle..
"She's extending an olive branch…."
She glanced at Nico, then Ana, her fearless little girl, at that moment smiled at her, giving her courage.
“Mother?”
“Yes?”
“May I hug you?”
Riley nodded. Both looked awkward as they closed in the distance to each other, neither making taking the lead to begin the embrace… Until one sweet little girl walked up to the two of them, wrapping an arm around each of them, pulling them closer to embrace.
Tears welled in Liam’s eyes seeing the three generations of the family finally come together as one. After a few moments, they pulled away from each other, Elle affectionately caressed Ana’s face.
Next up:
Spice Spice Baby
Part 3 of a Pretty Woman parody
The Pairings: Liam X Bebe (Liam X F!OC)
If you're interested in the previous parts Click here:
Part 1: Cinnamon Spice
Part 2: And Everything Nice
“That’s noble, you know. You believed in yourself enough to want more for yourself, to get away from a life you didn't want.”
“Still waiting on the more part.”
“Have you thought about college? Something you want to do with your life?”
“I mean I can think about college all I want, that doesn’t manifest enough money for me to go. Then, if I get there, what the hell would I even want to go to school for? Besides, I've never had an idea. It’s hard to dream, when the place you grew up in was nothing but nightmare fuel. Definitely not conducive to warm and fuzzy dreams. Just trying to survive from day to day. You know?”
She glanced around Liam's vast apartment and all of its splendor.
“You wouldn't, would you Ritchie Rich?” She commented with a smirk.
“You are right in that aspect. I’ve never had to worry about money or had any food insecurities of where my next meal was coming from. But I do understand getting away from a place where you felt you would never be able to realize your own potential, or be in the shadow of someone and never be able to learn who you really are. So we are similar in that aspect.”
Bebe yawned.
“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
“You’re right, we have our first big event tomorrow.”
When I woke up the next morning Liam had already left for work.
There was a little note on the night stand.
“Bebe I tried my best not to wake you, but apparently you didn’t hear me over your snoring :) . I’m joking. I promise. I’ll be home around 5:30 and we can get ready for the gala tonight, the car will pick us up around 7. Plan accordingly. I left my card, the salon downstairs is available for you whenever you decide to show up. Please use any amenities that you would like.
Yours, Richie Rich :)
P.S. I’d love it if you wore that silver dress and heels tonight.
Author’s note: A really short story on Liam’s POV and a little of Maxwell’s at the end, about Liam and MC’ first date (my MC name is Sofia). I came up with this when I played chapter 15 of Book 1. It was spontaneous and really fun to write something as delightful. All original characters belong to Pixelberry Studios.
Story: The Royal Romance book 1
Characters: Liam Rys x MC, Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont
Rating: T (Teen)
Tag: I’d like to tag @choicesficwriterscreations to submit this to the Fics of the Week event
Liam gently tapped his index on his Ipad while the chancellor of Cordonian exchequer talking about next year's budget provision for some public missions. This meeting was going to last for a few more hours. He couldn't wait for tomorrow to come, when he would meet Lady Sofia again in the Beaumont estate. If only he could see her earlier... Just then his phone vibrated as a new message popped out on the screen. That was Drake.
“Hey, I'm heading to Beaumont place. Maxwell needs help cleaning his house at last minute.”
Liam raised his eyebrows. How come the Beaumont brothers cannot hire a proper cleaning service?
“OK. Tell me if there is anything I can help with.” He texted back.
“It's OK. I'll update soon.”
Liam put his phone down and concentrated on the meeting. Some time later, during the break, Drake's message came.
“We've mostly done the prep for tomorrow. Sofia's been a great help.”
Liam smiled. He knew she wasn't like other ladies at court - those easily got distraught by participating in manual labor. He wanted to praise her after such a long day for both of them. An idea came into his mind. He typed a new message for Maxwell:
“Hi Maxwell. Do you mind if I come over your place this evening at around 7? I wanted to have dinner with Sofia.”
“Ohh, sure thing, man. Is it a date?”
“Yes, I'm hoping so. Will she be occupied tonight?”
“Nope, she has no schedule so far. Do you need help?”
Liam thought over it. What do men usually do for their girls during their first dates? He typed the question on Google. Various answers appeared on his screen.
“I may need some flower boutiques' information near your estate.”
***
Liam watched over Sofia returning to her room to get ready for their date night, then he pulled out his phone and dialed a number from his business sim.
“Yes, it’s Liam. This afternoon I placed an order with you on a bouquet of red Hybrid Tea rose. Could you please deliver the bouquet to the Beaumont estate within thirty minutes?”
When he finished the call, Maxwell walked over to him.
“Hi, the chef is working on our renowned tomato pasta.”
“Thank you, Maxwell. And what do you offer for drink?”
“Hmm, let me see. I'd choose something simple yet elegant for the first date. Champagne'd be fine by me.”
“What about the Beaumont Blancs? I think Sofia would appreciate your house's finest white wine.”
“Great idea. I'll prepare it, then.”
“Ah, there is one more thing. I think this should be a big favor to ask you now that I owe you too much. But could you give us the honor to be served by you?”
“Of course, Li. Not a big deal at all.” Maxwell laughed. “I can finally show you my table serving skills I've secretly trained after years of observing.”
***
It was almost 10, Maxwell went out of his room for a snack before his bedtime. Just when he turned the corner of the east wing, a scene displayed that almost made him scream out of excitement, yet luckily he stopped himself: From afar, Liam and Sofia were deeply kissing.
“Good Lord.” He almost had to wipe away his tears of joy “My effort pays off. My best friend is one step closer to his happy ending with Sofia... Right, I better not disturbing them. But what if Bertrand finds them like this? I should give them a heads-up.”
Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach, but everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.
Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)
A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found. Not beta'd. Barely edited (fuggit, we ball).
A/N 2 - I'M BACK! Well, for now, anyway 🙃. It's been over a freaking year since I updated this (how tho???! 🥲) or even looked at it but I got the urge the other day during some free time to work on stuff! (By the way, you can catch up here if you need a little refresher!) I know the fandom is *actually* dead at this point but I honestly don't care. Lol. Imma finish what I started, even if it takes 10 years 🫡.
A/N 3 - Listen I researched some stuff and I have a little medical experience but I am not a doctor so don't come for me over any inaccuracies. It's just a story 😎.
Characters belong to Pixelberry.
Tags - @choicesficwriterscreations
After Liam, Leo, and Regina decided at the Portavira hospital, Constantine was quickly airlifted back to the Capitol to join his home team of medical staff. His doctors worked tirelessly to get him stable, but his condition remained fluctuant since he arrived at the Cordonian Medical University. They hadn’t received a recent update, but Liam was determined that the moment he was able, he and Constantine would pick up their conversation right where it left off.
The anxiety he felt was like no other. He hadn’t slept in days and didn’t remember the last time he consumed something other than coffee. Time molded together, and he wasn’t sure what day of the week it was. The search for Riley drove him right to the gates of insanity, but Liam was determined, with everything in him, he was going to find her, no matter what it took.
The tension in the waiting room was a palpable force. Liam paced the area tirelessly, biting his nails until each finger bled. Leo stared into space and bounced his leg rapidly, filling the air with the sound of his pants as they rubbed against the upholstery of his chair. Regina watched the pair with pinched brows, and the longer she stared, the higher her curiosity rose. She noticed well before today that their demeanors had been different lately, and she heard of Liam’s hospital stay only a few days prior. His body language was off the charts at all moments, but she didn’t have any idea what could have created such trouble for them. She speculated but didn’t know for certain if her hunch was correct. All she knew was that something was indeed being kept from her.
Regina observed until she could no longer stand the tension and her curiosity got the better of her. “Liam… Are you alright?” She faintly asked, but her voice nearly echoed in the stillness.
“No, I’m not. He has to make it.” Liam answered, all the while continuing his pacing.
Regina's features softened. “I understand this is difficult to process, but everything is going to be alright—”
“No, it’s not!” Liam suddenly yelled, startling Regina and causing her to jump. “I need to know who did it. I have to know.”
Regina’s brows furrowed, her confusion reaching its peak. “What do you mean?”
Liam spoke again, but Regina quickly realized he spoke to himself instead of her. He walked in a short line then back again, his eyes glued to the floor and when he answered, his words were fast and muddled. “I just don’t understand. Who could’ve talked him into this mess? Was it Madeleine?” He pinched his brows and stopped before he shook his head. “No, no — he wouldn’t do what just anyone says… And that’s way too obvious, right? Right.”
Regina interjected, “Liam, what—”
“The council? Was this a collaborative effort? Is everyone guilty?” He continued, as his face quickly shifted from a bright shade of red to nearly white. “Can I trust anyone? Is this a sign to abdicate and call it a win?” He paused, the wheels visibly cranking inside his head before he spat out, “That solves nothing and doesn’t keep her safe! What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”
“Liam!” Regina yelled, stopping him in his tracks. Her eyes widened, she cleared her throat, and she smoothed down her skirt when his fiery gaze centered on her. “I apologize for the outburst, but what in the world are you talking about?”
“What?”
“You said something about Madeleine? And the council?”
Liam could only stare at Regina. He swore all that was happening inside his head, but it seemed lately there was no difference between the two. “I — uh…” He swallowed thickly as he silently weighed his options.
He didn’t know if he should tell Regina. It wasn’t because he believed she could be involved, but he didn’t want to risk putting her in danger. But now that the thought arose, it played repetitively, causing his heart rate to increase because maybe she could know something.
At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him if even Leo had a hand in it.
He shook the thought quickly, willing his paranoia to stay at bay. However, he also realized if Constantine had told anyone about his indiscretions, it would’ve been Regina, and his conscience wouldn't allow him to dismiss her as a person of interest.
Liam let out a sigh, placed a hand on Regina’s shoulder, and led her to a chair. He sat down beside her and addressed her in a low, stern tone. “What’s spoken of here does not get repeated. Are we understood?” He momentarily cursed himself because he wasn’t trying to come off this way to Regina, but he was so far over the ledge, that he could practically see underneath.
Regina agreed, and Liam swiftly caught her up to speed on what they knew, and her tears freely fell by the time he finished. She had no idea these things had happened and felt like a fool because she was a reigning monarch at the time the initial incident transpired. This was just as much her fault as it was Constantine’s, and she felt guilty for assuming what the media presented was correct.
“Liam, I didn’t know… I’m so sorry this has happened…” Regina started as she wiped her cheeks. “I heard you were running some kind of investigation, but—”
“You know about the investigation?” Liam hastily inquired, his red eyes not even blinking as he awaited her answer.
“It was hard to miss, unfortunately.” She sadly smiled. “I’m afraid most people know you were looking into Lady Riley’s whereabouts, but they don’t know how deep it runs.”
“Who’s been talking about it?”
“The truth?” Liam nodded, so Regina finished. “... Everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes, Liam… Word traveled around the court fast after you hired some kind of investigator—”
“They know about Ray, too?” Liam repeated in complete disbelief.
“Yes, but everyone assumed you were simply looking for Lady Riley to demand an explanation. No one has mentioned anything about her still being in the country, or anything else, for that matter.”
“Do you know anything about it? Did father ever mention it?”
“No, he didn’t,” Regina answered through clenched teeth. “And if he pulls through this, he had better pray to the heavens above for protection, because I have a lot to say to him regarding the matter.”
“What about the murders?” Leo interjected. “Has anyone said anything about those?”
“No. Most don’t even know who the maid was, and Penelope’s death hasn’t circulated the rumor mill yet.”
Liam ran a hand down his face as he let this conversation seep in. Nothing they’d done was secret. Sure, some aspects were, but they had been so careful to keep this under wraps, yet this information seemed to spread like wildfire.
This raised the question — was there yet another mole? His vision briefly connected with Leo’s and his expression echoed Liam’s, confirming that his suspicion wasn’t just paranoia.
“Regina, you can’t tell anyone —”
“You have my word, Liam.” Regina softly interrupted. “If I can do anything to help you in any way —”
“No.” Liam sternly answered. “I don’t want you anywhere near this — forget this conversation ever happened. I trust you, but I don’t want you getting mixed up in this.” He stopped himself, not knowing if he spoke he truthl. He didn’t know if he trusted her, but unless he received a reason, Regina’s name moved to the bottom of his list of suspects.
“But if someone mentions it…” Leo trailed off.
A doctor appeared in the doorway a moment later and bowed to the trio, interrupting the moment. “Your Majesties, my name is Doctor Gordon —”
Liam shot up from his seat. “How is he? Is he awake?”
“I’m afraid he’s not, sir, but we’ve stabilized him. We’re waiting on a few more lab results and his vitals are fluctuant, but for the time being, he seems to be on a steady level.”
“What happened?”
“Unfortunately, this can happen in carcinoma patients. The cancer already dwindles air and the lungs overexert and overpower the heart, triggering a myocardial infarction.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Liam practically barked as his patience ran thin.
“He suffered a heart attack. In any other circumstance, his survival rate would be high, but because of the cancer, unfortunately, his heart was already weak.”
“A heart attack?” Liam mimicked in disbelief.
“Yes, sir — a pretty nasty one. All we can do is keep him comfortable—”
“Don’t say it,” Liam gritted out through clenched teeth. “There has to be something you can do.” He pleaded, his desperation quickly skyrocketing. “We have funds — get a fucking specialist or something!”
Dr. Gordon winced at his volume. “Sir, he’s not eligible for any kind of surgery — his lungs will collapse the second we administer anesthesia. We’re giving him medications to keep him relaxed and manage his pain, but I’m afraid there’s not much more to be done...”
Liam could only stare at the man in front of him as if he spoke another language. This should not have been a surprise; they all knew Constantine was on borrowed time, but the convenience of hitting another roadblock regarding Riley couldn't be denied. That was his father, and he wanted to be sad that his life was essentially ending, but all he felt was anger and regret that he didn’t get the chance to uncover the final hidden piece of the puzzle, leading him to wonder if he would ever be able to find her again.
“Will he wake back up?” Liam tentatively asked, holding onto any little sliver of hope.
“I’m not sure, sir. He could, but it all depends on him right now. There’s nothing we can do to bring him out of it — it’s just a waiting game at this point.” The doctor responded with a sad smile. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Can you take us to him?” Regina tearfully inquired.
“Of course, ma’am.” Dr. Gordon bowed.
Leo and Regina went to follow, but Liam couldn’t force himself to go. If his father was not yet awake, he had somewhere else he needed to be. He wanted to feel guilty for not staying, but he meant what he said to Constantine; he was no longer his father. All he could picture was a monster who turned a blind eye while letting someone hurt the woman his heart still cries for. Perhaps his feelings would change with time, but for right now, he felt nothing but hatred for his sperm donor.
And his conscience screamed at him, demanding he go check out his father’s suggestion — the tunnels.
As a child, he’d heard fables and stories of the dreaded, abandoned area, hidden deep under estates from some older nobles. However, it never received recognition from a technical standpoint, only hearsay; it wasn’t something you’d learn about during a lesson or schooling of any type.
Liam honestly didn’t know if his father was being truthful or just trying to provide him with some kind of answer to deflect his anger. He had no reason to trust a word that came out of Constantine’s mouth, but he couldn’t deny the sudden jump he felt as he mentioned it; like a blast of lightning struck him, sending a jolt of electricity down the length of his spine. Rationally thinking, he was wary of believing his father, but his heart’s reaction couldn’t go unnoticed.
Either way, he felt he needed to check. They had to address anything and everything they found, and this would be no different. He assured himself that if Olivia were there, she would’ve already left to secure the scene. The rest of the duchies would get attention later, but right now, he needed to check his home turf.
Leo noticed Liam didn’t follow and turned around to see the wheels actively working in his brother’s head. “Li…”
“You go. Stay with him in case he wakes up.” Liam answered, his eyes centered on the palace in the distance as he peered out a window.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to check,” Liam said, more to himself than Leo. “He mentioned the tunnels — if she could be there, I have to look.” He swallowed down a lump of bile as he thought about what he might find, but either way, he needed to know.
“Liam, I know you want to, but —”
“I have to, Leo.” He swallowed thickly and quickly blinked, willing the sudden burn behind his eyelids to go away. “I have to.” He whispered.
“Then I’m coming with you,” Leo responded with utmost determination.
“No. I want you to stay with him.”
Leo’s mouth fell agape. “That is not happening —”
“I’m ordering you not to leave his side, Leo, not until I say it’s okay.” Liam rumbled. “Don’t fucking test me. I’m not in the mood. I need you here.” He turned and strode away before Leo received a chance to respond.
Leo watched Liam go with wide eyes. He didn’t know what to think or do in this situation. He couldn’t fathom that his father had done such a thing — that he stooped so low. Leo had his issues with Constantine, but nothing even close in comparison. However, he realized Liam was a walking ball of rage; there was no telling what he would do, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. Right now, he only saw the anger he felt at the moment. He was oblivious to what his actions could spiral into, and Leo couldn’t help but feel like this game was far from over.
Leo quickly pulled his phone out and called Drake, who was close by, to tell him to keep an eye out for him. It wasn’t because Leo wanted to stop him; he only wanted to ensure Liam did not go alone. He realized there was no telling what could be waiting — if anything — but on the chance there was something down there, Liam would not walk into it by himself.
Liam returned to the palace a short time later and instead of heading through the front doors, he veered left. He walked directly beside the building, surveying the concrete siding with his eyes and hands, mindlessly searching for something he wasn’t even sure existed. He didn’t know if anyone was around, and didn’t know if he had a guard trailing behind him. The only thing his brain registered was his footsteps in the grass and the immediate view in front of him.
To know Riley could have been here this entire time, right under his nose, made him sick to his stomach. Not only did he turn his back on her, but he potentially walked right above her all day every day, wishing she was there; now, there was a chance she was the entire time, and he couldn’t even begin to process it.
He still couldn’t fathom how this entire operation happened right under his nose. If Olivia hadn’t spoken up, someone would have covered this whole thing up. He not only abandoned her, but he also allowed this madness to happen. The guilt he felt at that moment was hard to ignore, but as he mindlessly trekked around the outside of the palace, searching for the unknown, his hands shook as he realized what could lie before him.
Riley could be inches away; he swore he could sense her aura near. His footsteps quickened and echoed in the stillness, even in the moistened grass, as he let that thought resonate through his body like lightning in his veins, fueling him forward. He was on a mission and saw nothing except his end goal.
Riley was close, and he was going to rescue her.
A hand on his shoulder startled Liam. He spun around with his fist cocked, ready to strike, but he stood down when he saw Drake. “It’s just me, Li…”
Liam raised his palm. “Don’t try to stop me, Drake. I’m going to find it.”
“I know, man. I’m coming with you.”
“No, we don’t know what’s down there—”
“Exactly. No way in hell are you going in there alone.” Drake swiftly interrupted. “Come on, let’s go.” Without a second of hesitation, he walked a few feet away from Liam to the back of the palace, directly to a wall covered in thick vines. He brought out his pocketknife and sliced through the shrubbery, revealing a large stone door.
“How did you know?” Liam rasped as he finished, his steely glare centered on Drake.
Drake recognized his hostility and raised his arms in surrender. Liam didn't outright accuse him of anything, but the fiery blues staring back at him told him exactly what he was thinking. “I’ve run around this place unattended for most of my life, Liam.”
Liam shook his head to clear the chaos. His features softened, and he released a deep breath before he replied, “Right… Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“S’all good, man.” Drake returned with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Ready?”
Liam mindlessly nodded, and the two started their venture. They swung the stone door open and saw a set of stairs that led into the vastness of the unknown, the chilled temperature seeping out and coating their skin in goosebumps. Liam entered first, Drake hot on his heels, and they cautiously began the descent.
Every creaky step echoed against the concrete walls, amplifying the tension until they reached a long, dark hallway. The depths of the palace tunnels were cold, damp, and incredibly creepy. A combination of dust and mold littered the air, and spider webs covered most of the walls. It truly mimicked what you’d see in movies, even down to the dull illumination from flickering sconces. The further they traveled, the worse it got and the higher their anticipation rose.
They followed until they reached a dead end. Both men glanced around, but neither could understand. They found the end of the tunnels and didn’t find a sign of anyone. There were no cells or doors, as Constantine suggested, and no signs of any life around. The only sounds to be heard in the deafening silence were their ragged breaths, mixed in with their pounding hearts as they let this conclusion sink in.
“Goddamnit! He fucking lied to me, Drake! Again!” Liam suddenly erupted, his voice nearly loud enough to burst an eardrum as it echoed off the stone walls. “He won’t have to worry about his heart giving out — he needs to be more concerned with what I’m going to do once I get back to that hospital.” He went to storm away, but Drake suddenly stopped him.
“Hold on a sec, Li.” Drake pulled out a small book from his jacket pocket and opened it. “I went to the library and got that book when Leo called to warn me you were coming and where you were going, just in case we needed it. Okay, we’re here…” He pointed at the page before both men carefully assessed the old, dusty map.
“What is that?” Liam asked as he motioned to a dark area. It appeared to be a door of some kind, although they saw no trace of anything as they peered around.
“That’s gotta be what we’re looking for. These maps don’t have the hidden shit on them, but there’s usually always a clue somewhere or an indicator of some kind.”
“How do you know all this?” He inquired as he skeptically eyed his best friend.
Drake smirked. “What do you think I did all those years when you were busy doing prince shit? I know every crevice of this place — if she’s here, we’re going to find her.”
“How are we going to find the door?”
“I dunno.” Drake shrugged. “We might just have to feel along the walls, or look for anything out of place.”
“Like creepy, floor-to-ceiling paintings in an otherwise empty hallway?” Liam asked as he pointed to a portrait hung not far away, conveniently placed in a darkened shadow.
“That’d do it,” Drake answered as they made their way over.
Liam touched the art and tried to move it, but even when he used all his might, it wouldn’t budge. He felt all around the area, searching for a lever or some kind of pulley, but uncovered nothing of relevance.
Drake took a step back and searched his memories as desperation started to creep in. He spent most of his childhood exploring the palace in moments of boredom. Liam joined when he could, but Drake had to entertain himself when he couldn’t fathom being around Maxwell or Olivia and often ended up in areas he knew he wasn’t supposed to be near, including this one.
When he was younger — probably ten or eleven — he found himself in this same tunnel. Somehow, he opened the secret door, but he got scared when he peeked in and quickly left. It was a complete accident; he didn’t even remember how he got the door to open. The only thing he recalled was that he stumbled and hurt his shoulder on the wall, then he flailed for balance as he began to fall. When his hand reached out for leverage, instead of connecting with the stone as intended, he grabbed the sconce and accidentally turned it in his descent. As he stood, he pushed on the painting to regain his leverage, and then...
Drake suddenly looked up and saw a light beside the portrait. All the other sconces held varying illumination, but produced light in some fashion; this was the only one they’d seen so far that was completely black — not even a faint spark. He approached and, without a second thought, he turned it to the side. Liam watched with furrowed brows and opened his mouth to speak, but a loud click silenced him. Suddenly, the outline of a door appeared and stopped him in his tracks, causing his breath to sputter.
He pushed on the wall before another click sounded and the door slowly crept open, revealing a darker, tighter hallway, somehow leading deeper and further into the unknown. The area was nearly completely black and smelled incredibly moldy, with hues of cigar smoke and sweat mixing in with a plethora of other rancid scents. Drake pulled his phone out, turned the flashlight on and peeked in, but they couldn’t see anything except a long, seemingly never-ending pit of darkness.
Liam went first but stepped slowly as his anticipation rose. Although he wanted to rush through, his anxiety multiplied as he took in the eeriness before them. His unease quadrupled, an anvil-sized chill traveling down the length of his spine and back up again. When they approached the end, the vicinity held a little more light from dim, flickering sconces, but not enough for them to see clearly.
They made their way to the end of the hall by feeling along the cold, moistened walls, except this time, one lone, stone door with corroded metal bars awaited them at the end. Drake and Liam’s hair on the back of their necks stood straight up as they saw a chain and padlock lying on the floor, the structure slightly ajar. Liam cautiously approached and pushed it open with shaky hands, swallowing thickly to contain the vile as it rose to the back of his throat.
As they stepped over the threshold, they saw a line of what appeared to be small holding cells; three, to be exact. The boxes were small with just enough room for the few pieces of furniture. The first two were empty and the cots were perfectly made, showing no signs of anyone. They approached the last and Liam’s heart sank into the pits of his stomach as he realized it was vacant as well. However, his mind started to race as he realized this one clearly housed someone at some point; a tray of untouched food sat on a small table in between the toilet and bed, which was unmade and tousled, causing his hands to shake uncontrollably as he tried to process this scene.
“Holy shit…” Drake gasped as he took in their surroundings. “How did we never find this?”
“I don’t know… I think the better question is, how did someone else find it?”
“They didn’t, Li. Someone knew this shit was here and how to access it — nobody just stumbled upon this.” Drake rubbed his chin, his disbelief shining brightly as he tried to make sense of this new revelation. “There’s no fucking way.”
Liam stepped toward the bed and lifted the pillow to his face. He inhaled a deep breath and a faint floral fragrance invaded his senses and sparked some kind of recognition, but he couldn’t pinpoint if it was Riley or not. “Do — do you think she was here?”
Drake momentarily remained silent as he weighed his words, figuring out the best way to be honest with his best friend without completely demolishing the fragile remnants of his hope. “Clearly someone was, but it’s hard to say if it was her…” He faintly answered.
Liam nodded and returned the pillow, his heart racing while every worst-case scenario ran through his head. He shook it off and instead touched the tray of food and as he did, sweat immediately poured down his forehead, and a sudden chill swept over his entire body, as if he'd opened the door to Lythikos' keep in the middle of a snowstorm, as he realized —
The food was still warm.
“Drake…” His voice trembled, and he spoke quietly as his eyes surveyed the room. “Someone was here recently — like, within a few hours, maybe less… I can’t help but feel like they knew we’d come down here.”
“What do you mean?”
“That door was open on purpose, Drake, and this food is still warm. They wanted us to know someone was in here.”
Drake momentarily considered it before he responded, “You’re right, but how do we know who it was?”
“I don’t know… I need to contact Olivia and Ray to let them know about this. If my father was correct, these could be in all the duchies...” Liam trailed off with a hopeless expression. He shook his head with his hands on his hips, desperation setting in. “What am I supposed to do, Drake? I — I’m at a complete loss. No matter what we do, we still can’t seem to get ahead and now they’re taunting me, too.”
“It does seem like they’re taunting you a bit,” Drake agreed as he looked around the deserted box with barely enough for both of them to stand in.
“Do I send out teams everywhere? How can I do that without someone knowing? They already knew we were coming here, and I didn’t even tell anyone! The investigation may as well be on the evening fucking news!” Liam shouted as his composure turned to ash and he let the tidal wave of his emotions wash over him.
“I — I wish I could answer that, Li, but I’m not the one to ask… You need to get Olivia and Ray in on this as soon as possible.”
“I just need to see her, Drake…” Liam admitted, his lip involuntarily quivering. He stopped his steps but refused to make eye contact. His tears threatened to spill over, but he couldn’t decide if they stemmed from sadness, frustration, defeat, or all of the above.
Drake noticed Liam’s shift and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I know… Everything is gonna work itself out.”
“How can you say that? You’ve seen what’s been happening!” Liam exclaimed as he shook Drake’s palm away, his agitation returning full force. “I can’t keep doing this cat-and-mouse game. I’m canceling the tour — right now.”
Drake’s eyes widened. “Li, I don’t think —”
“There’s nothing else to do, Drake! I can’t keep going back and forth. Between this, and now my father, I can’t keep pretending everything is okay.” Liam shook his head as a lone tear traveled down his cheek. “I can’t.” He brokenly whispered.
Drake’s features softened. “I know this is a fucking nightmare, but you can’t do that, Liam, not until we know Brooks is safe… You can probably get away with postponing some stuff because of your dad, but you can’t outright cancel everything…” He swallowed thickly as he tried to keep his head level. He pushed aside his own desolate feelings to console Liam, but between worrying about Riley and dealing with Bastien's betrayal, he didn't know how much longer he could keep on this show. His best friend needed him to be strong and coherent, but the strength he rallied to be Liam's backbone ran sparse. They’d been through a lot together, but this situation put a whole new meaning to the term through hell and back.
Liam didn’t answer, but deep down, he knew Drake was indeed correct. Until Riley was directly in front of him, he couldn’t do anything to further irritate whoever held these cards, as much as that infuriated him. This entire tim,e everyone kept telling him he was the king — that he was in control — but that was never true. He was merely a puppet in someone else’s scheme and he found himself helplessly stuck, even though he wanted to throw in the towel. The thought of abdication crossed his mind on more than one occasion, but again, until Riley was one hundred percent safe, he couldn’t do anything.
“Maybe we should get ahold of Olivia and see what she thinks about this,” Drake softly suggested after a long moment of silence.
Liam couldn’t muster a response, but he nodded and mindlessly made his way out. They headed back to the main floor of the palace to the grand staircase in complete silence, the tension looming among them thicker than ever before. Liam didn’t have any idea where he was going, nor did he register any scenery on their walk; he couldn’t think straight.
So much ran amok through his already jumbled thoughts. Since his father told them of the hidden tunnels, he hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Leo, Regina, and now Drake. Bastien was no longer around, yet someone still beat them down there. He wanted nothing more than to believe it could have been Riley in that cell, but he didn’t know what to conclude. Nothing made sense. He felt as if the world around him was on fire, but he had no choice other than to walk through the flames with a smile.
Drake led Liam to his office, thinking that would be the best place for them to do something productive. He stepped aside to allow him access to unlock the door, and Liam mindlessly put his key inside the lock, not noticing that it wasn’t even necessary. The structure creaked open, but Liam suddenly froze as he took in his surroundings.
He knew when he left last he shut everything off, but a fire roared in the hearth and the TV was on a national news station, although muted. The blinds on his windows were open, the opposite of how he left them. The lamp on his desk shone brightly, and he undoubtedly knew that was the very last thing he’d turned off when he left.
Without a shadow of uncertainty, he knew someone had been there.
The temperature suddenly dropped, and an eerie sensation filled the air — one that was becoming all too familiar. Liam stepped over the threshold and took a couple of slow, cautious steps forward, ignoring the goosebumps coating his entire body. The anticipation of the situation multiplied until it became a tangible force — a living, breathing creature that derived from his demons, laying dormant, waiting for its next moment to rise and unleash hell upon his world. The room remained silent, but it wasn't content or peaceful; instead it felt louder than the screams of his deep anguish. For the first time in months, the whirlwind of his thoughts halted, but it was far from a relief. A sense of dread rushed over him so viciously that it nearly took him to his knees, but he didn't falter. He stood taller to project dominance over the mythical figure of his emotions, but he knew the attempt was subpar at best, and his demons saw how close he was to breaking.
He spun around in the middle of the room with pinched brows as he surveyed his surroundings. “What the hell?” He whispered, his voice slicing through the silence like a knife.
“Careful, Li…” Drake spoke as he followed closely, his eyes darting all around to look for any kind of threat.
“Someone’s been here…” Liam spoke as he did the same, combing the vicinity with a dissecting gaze.
“Yeah, but again, who?”
“That seems to be the question of the day,” Liam acknowledged as he noticed a lit candle on the coffee table. The pool of wax was only a small circle around the wick, which led him to decide that whoever lit it did so only minutes ago. “Someone is playing with me, Drake…” He trailed off, the hair on the back of his neck rising to attention as he extinguished the flame.
“Is there a guard close by? Maybe we need to let them handle this…” Drake suggested as his unease continued to grow.
Liam ignored him and mustered every ounce of strength he had to calm his rising anxiety. Even though he searched the room from top to bottom, he saw no prominent threats. Other than the things he’d already noticed, nothing else stood out. There were no signs that anyone had broken in or stolen anything; it almost appeared as if someone simply wanted him to know that they were there.
He carefully approached his desk with Drake glued to his side. He intended to grab the phone and call Olivia to see what she suggested they do next. However, as he scanned over the contents on top of the mahogany structure, he realized something he’d never seen lay directly in front of his chair. His hands trembled as he picked up the item, but when recognition swept over him, it was accompanied by anguish that resembled a dagger to the gut.
It was a folded-up newspaper from the day Riley became the Apple Queen, but someone scratched out her face in red marker on the front-page picture of her and Liam, and covered her body in obscenities. Large, animated tears streamed from Liam’s eyes, and his smile was transformed into a large, dramatic frown. The underlining in the attached article emphasized Riley’s commoner status, while others highlighted passages about an ‘enamored prince’ and her likelihood of success. He scoured the text underneath until the passage broke off and continued on a different page, but as he went to unfold it, something dropped from inside the paper.
Drake curiously crouched as he observed the contents meet the floor. He could tell papers or cards of some sort fell, but those became momentarily forgotten as something else dropped. It didn’t take long for him to realize it was human hair; long, silky strands of blonde mane, and a substantial amount of it.
He swallowed thickly as he recognized Riley as the only person they knew with blonde hair — aside from Madeleine, but her locks were nowhere near as lengthy as Riley’s. He bent down and picked up a wad for himself and Liam to see along with everything else, but as he realized what else he held, he stopped breathing.
With the hair were photos — Constantine at the hospital, Liam entering the palace that night, Penelope’s body arriving back in Portavira, Olivia and Ray investigating — all things nobody should have known anything about.
Before he could process anything, Drake’s vision went past what he held and landed on the now-opened paper still in Liam's hands. He furrowed his brow as he spotted something scribbled on the inside and motioned to it, causing Liam to look down with confusion written on his features until he saw peeks as well. He brought it to his face with visibly shaky hands and held his breath as he prepared himself for the worst, but within seconds, any and every ounce of hope burst into flames.
Liam dropped into his office chair, and Drake watched his complexion drain until he mimicked a ghost, his breathing steadily increasing in pace and intensity. His tears fell freely until he nearly sobbed, the shift happening so fast that Drake was momentarily speechless.
He quickly sprang into action and crouched in front of Liam. “Li — calm down. Take a couple of deep breaths… Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
After a few seconds of stillness, he answered, “I — I don’t know if there’s a-anything left to be d-done, Drake.” Liam got out through gasps and hiccups, making no attempts to cover his deteriorating state.
“What’re you talking about? We can’t give up now!” Drake hollered.
Liam remained silent for a long moment, the tension thickening by the second. His tears dried and the ache in his chest expanded until it exploded, leaving nothing but agony behind. “I don’t think we have a choice in the matter…” He responded, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion.
“Bullshit. What was it? Lemme see,” Drake demanded as his irritation skyrocketed. He was not willing to let Liam give up — not now. Whatever it was, they could and would deal with it. He didn’t know how, but someone had to keep some hope flowing in an otherwise grim situation.
Liam didn’t answer, but shook his head and stared blankly into space as he let the wave envelop him whole. His breath hitched and, although he tried to fight it, his tears flowed freely once more. He fisted his hair, and his shoulders shook with anguished sobs, the sound reverberating off the walls. Drake hastily snatched the item from his hands as his agitation got the best of him, even though he was experiencing a side of Liam he was sure nobody had ever seen. He held the paper in front of his face for only a moment before his irritation instantly dissipated, instead replaced with overwhelming anxiety as he’d never felt before.
They concluded Riley was in the country and speculated she was being held hostage, but they didn’t know for sure. They had very little information to prove where she was or wasn’t, and they tried not to jump to conclusions without having all the facts. Of course, her sources of identification would be required to vacate the country, but it wasn’t impossible to do. It wouldn’t have been easy, but people cross borders all the time — it was a far-fetched theory, but Drake held onto every little sliver of hope that she escaped after all.
However, as he stared down at the message left for Liam, there was no longer a need to theorize — the implications rang loud and clear. Within the blink of an eye, any semblance of hope turned to dust as they let the situation sink in.
The paper landed on the floor in front of the lengthy window behind the desk. Outside, a storm raged on, perfectly depicting the tidal wave of emotions coursing through the room and the graveness of the situation at hand. The rain against the glass suddenly increased, turning from a light tap to a full-blown knocking sound accompanied by forceful winds, making the trees sway violently. Liam remained in his daze as he stared blankly into space, but the gentle fall of the paper echoed in his ears as it met the floor, drawing his attention there.
His gaze zeroed in on the message, the illumination from the lightning flashing over it and displaying the consequences of his denial right before his face —
You’re running out of pawns, Your Majesty. Will she be next?
Rules: post the beginning lines of your most recent 10 published fanfics, then tag 10 people!
Thanks for the tag, @missameliep ❤️
My latest fics were posted in 2024 for King Liam Appreciation Week, I posted only three fics and one of them was simply an old fic rewritten... I don't know if I'm cheating, but I really liked everything I came up with the KLAW prompts, so I'll post them anyway 😁
1. Break - Part I revamped | Liam Rys X MC (Jade Bourbon)
While Maxwell waited outside the ladies room, Jade looked at herself in the mirror and heaved a sigh. She was a mess. Sure, she could fix her makeup and go back out there. But what for? Watching Madeleine snaking her hands over him? For more people to tell her how she became a pariah in the kingdom and should just leave? What was the point of all this anyway?
Turning on the sink, she washed her hands and placed them on the back of her neck to freshen up. She was still resolute not to give up. But for the night, she had enough.
As she walked out of the ladies room, Maxwell stood up from the settee with his usual encouraging smile.
"You seem better."
"Thanks..." She simpered. "Can I go back to my room now? We congratulated the happy couple, toasted, dined on their honor and blah blah blah..." Jade gesticulated as she twisted her lips in annoyance.
"Sure. I think the staff already has it cleaned. I'm kinda beat too."
"Let's go then."
Lacing arms with her friend, Jade walked towards the grand staircase.
2. Pause For Coffee | Liam Rys X MC (Jade Bourbon)
Blue, pink and purple hues painted the sky as Liam rested on the chaise lounge of his office before the last meeting of the day. Though this week has been calmer than usual, he still needed a couple of minutes before the video conference with Cordonian ambassador in the US. Returning to work after Elise's birth hasn't been easy. Fortunately, there's one thing that never failed to help him restore his energy.
"Your Majesty?" His assistant called after a soft knock on the door.
"Come in."
Carrying a tray with a cup of coffee and sparkling water, his assistant walked in and placed the tray on the side table. "Your coffee, sir."
"Thank you, Andrea."
As his assistant left, Liam smiled as the comforting smell of brewed coffee filled his lungs, bringing back memories of the day he tasted it for the first time.
3. Fallen Petals | Liam Rys X Madeleine, Liam Rys X MC ( Jade Bourbon)
"Thank you for coming!" Madeleine faked a smile and waved as the last guest left the grand hall. The countess then grumbled and extended her hand to her maid, who promptly squeezed a hand sanitizer on her palm.
Right next to her, Liam inhaled sharply. It still baffled him to remember that Leo endured Madeleine for three years. Keeping up appearances in front of guests was one thing. But when it was just them and the servants, it was so much harder. After all, that was exactly when Madeleine's true self would show.
"Your Majesty, your bedchambers are ready," Bastien whispered.
"Thank goodness," the King mumbled to his bodyguard, who pressed his lips together and nodded. Bastien certainly knew how obnoxious Madeleine could be.
"I beg your pardon?" Madeleine cut in.
"Bastien just informed me my room is ready and I thanked him. If you excuse me, I'd like to rest right now."
"Alright, you've been doing your part pretty well, Your Majesty." Madeleine smirked.
"Not as well as you do, sweetheart," Liam retorted as he walked towards the stairs.
Tagging: @rosesnink @princess-geek @storyofmychoices and anyone who's still writing and willing to share their latest fics
A Throne of Whispers - Chapter One: The Golden Age
The Royal Romance, an Alternate Universe Series
Pairing: King Liam Rys x F!OC (Aurora Brooks)
Synopsis: The young Cordonian King Liam and his queen, Aurora, are the perfect royal fairytale. But their peace is shattered by a secret organization, "Via Imperii." In a calculated plot, Aurora and her daughter are imprisoned abroad, while a woman named Cassandra appears in Cordonia with a boy proven by DNA to be Liam’s "secret son." Attacked from all sides, Liam and Aurora must fight from worlds apart, relying on their absolute trust to uncover a centuries-old conspiracy and save their family and kingdom.
Masterlist
Content Warnings: This series will contain Heavy Angst, Political Intrigue, Psychological Themes, Depictions of Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Situations, Violence, Characrer Death, and sensitive subjects including implications of Fertility Ethics. Please read with discretion.
Category: Alternate Universe, Political Thriller, Angst, On-going Series
Word Count: 3020+/-
Disclaimer: All characters from The Royal Romance belong to Pixelberry Studios. Original characters, including Aurora Brooks, belong to the authors.
A/N1: And we are back with Chapter 1! This chapter is all about establishing the "Golden Age" of Cordonia, showing the peace and prosperity Liam and Aurora have built. As this is an Alternate Universe series, you'll see how we build the foundation before the storm arrives.
A/N2: This chapter is our submission for the Choices Picnic: August 2025 monthly challenge hosted by @choicescommunityevents! We chose the prompt Changing Tides, as this chapter represents the calm before the tides of fortune dramatically shift for the Cordonian royal family.
A/N3: So much love and a huge thank you to my incredible partner @tessa-liam for not only co-writing this but also for being the best pre-reader and source of support!
The flags of Cordonia—the golden lion and the white sail—snapped crisply in the wind on either side of the main thoroughfare leading from the palace to the city center, a perfect match to the small, colorful flags bearing the royal crest waved by the citizens. Tens of thousands of people had gathered along the streets, their faces alight with a genuine, undisguised joy and reverence. The air flowed with the festive clamor of a holiday; the laughter of children, the calls of vendors, and the cheers for the King and Queen that erupted intermittently from the crowd all wove together into a hymn for the era.
Today was the official inauguration of the Queen Eleanor National Library and Arts Center.
The magnificent building was, in itself, an emblem of Cordonia's "Golden Age." Its main structure was fashioned from traditional white marble, preserving the elegance and dignity of the ancient kingdom, while its great dome and front façade were constructed with the latest technology from Monterisso, made from a single, seamless pane of reinforced glass. Sunlight poured through unhindered, illuminating the interior as brightly as day. Tradition and modernity, history and future, achieved a perfect harmony in its design, just as in the nation itself.
At ten o'clock sharp, the royal honor guard appeared at the end of the grand avenue, and the crowd's roar reached its zenith. King Liam and Queen Aurora, riding in an open-topped royal convertible, proceeded slowly toward the plaza.
Liam was dressed in a deep blue royal uniform, its impeccable tailoring accentuating his tall and straight figure. A golden sash was draped diagonally across his chest, where various medals representing the highest honors of the crown were neatly pinned, glittering under the sun along with the ornate, tasseled epaulets on his shoulders. He wore no crown, his brilliant blond hair stirring in the breeze, making him appear at once majestic and possessed of a trustworthy approachability.
Seated beside him, Aurora had chosen a stunning floor-length gown. The dress was a fiery gradient, softening from a gentle orange-red at the shoulders to a burning crimson at the hem. With the finest golden threads, a phoenix in mid-flight—the ancient totem of her home duchy, Valtoria—was subtly and realistically embroidered onto the fabric. The ensemble perfectly merged her nobility as Queen with the pride she took in her roots, making her radiant. Her chestnut hair was coiled into an elegant bun, her ears adorned with small diamond earrings that refracted a brilliant light under the sun. Her smile was warm and infectious, and when she waved to the crowd, she always received a response more enthusiastic than any jewel could elicit.
They were not merely the rulers of this nation; they were a real and beautiful fairytale in the hearts of the people. A diligent king who loved his people, and a kind and intelligent commoner queen from a foreign land. Their love story had long become a celebrated tale, and under their joint rule, Cordonia was experiencing unprecedented prosperity and openness. The old, stubborn noble factions had been thoroughly reshuffled after the turmoil of several years past, and a new, more vibrant class was on the rise. Abroad, Cordonia actively established friendly trade relations with its neighbors; at home, it vigorously developed education and culture. The nation was affluent, the people content—the truest footnote to a "Golden Age."
The convertible came to a smooth stop in the plaza before the arts center. Liam disembarked first, then turned gracefully, extending a hand to Aurora inside the car. She placed her hand in his palm and, with his support, stepped out elegantly. This small, loving gesture once again drew benevolent cheers and applause from the onlookers.
Liam took Aurora’s hand and walked onto the temporary dais. He scanned the thousands of faces in the square, faces filled with hope and trust, and a great, weighty sense of responsibility washed over him. He cleared his throat, and his resonant, clear voice carried across the entire plaza through the microphone.
"My dear people of Cordonia," he began, and the square fell silent. "Today, we gather here not just to celebrate the completion of a building, but to witness the realization of a dream."
He paused, his gaze turning to the magnificent glass dome beside him.
"This dream began with my mother, the late Queen Eleanor. She believed that knowledge is a bridge for communication, and art is a balm for the soul. It was her lifelong wish to build a great library for Cordonia, so that every child, regardless of birth, would have the chance to know the world and explore the unknown through books. She hoped that Cordonia's culture, like our trade, would open its arms to the world—to embrace, to exchange, to prosper together."
A subtle, deep longing for his mother laced Liam's voice. Aurora could feel his hand tighten slightly around hers, and she squeezed back with equal force, lending him her silent support.
"Today, we have finally fulfilled her wish. But this building does not belong only to the past; it belongs, more importantly, to the future." Liam's gaze returned to the people, now incredibly firm. "It belongs to every one of you. It will be an ocean of wisdom for our young students, a sanctuary of inspiration for our artists, and the greatest testament to Cordonia's openness, peace, and creativity to the world!"
Thunderous applause erupted from the square. Liam raised a hand to signal for quiet, and continued:
"I know well that I could not have accomplished such a grand undertaking alone. I can stand here today because I have you—my most loyal and hardworking people. And more so, because I have her."
He turned, gazing lovingly at Aurora, his blue eyes full of devotion. "My Queen, Aurora. With her wisdom, her kindness, and her precious empathy born from the people, she constantly reminds me that the core of kingship is not to rule, but to serve. She has made me a better man, and she has made this nation a better place. Therefore, this building belongs to her as well."
Aurora's eyes moistened slightly as she returned his loving smile. The crowd cheered again, this time, shouting their Queen's name.
After the ceremony, Liam and Aurora did not leave immediately. They stepped down from the dais and walked with smiles into the secure area cordoned off by guards, interacting closely with the people.
Liam was the first to notice a veteran in a wheelchair, a medal for valor from the last border conflict pinned to his chest. "Sergeant Marcus," Liam said, walking directly to him and offering his hand, his voice filled with sincere respect. "It is good to see you here. Are you settling into your new post?"
The man, who had lost a leg in the war, flushed with emotion. He gripped the king's hand firmly and straightened his back. "Your Majesty! It is my honor! To serve my country, whether on the battlefield or in this temple of knowledge, is the greatest honor of my life. To be here, organizing the books that carry our nation's history… my heart has never known such peace."
"Your service is the pride of Cordonia, Mr. Marcus," Aurora added gently, stepping to her husband's side. "We are grateful that you are willing to continue serving the people. I hope this work brings you peace and joy."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. With you and the King, Cordonia's future is bright." Tears welled in the veteran's eyes.
Next, their attention was drawn to a young girl nervously clutching the fabric of her skirt. She was the first recipient of the newly established "Queen Eleanor Scholarship."
Aurora smiled and spoke first, her voice always having a calming effect. "Maria, isn't it? I read your application essay. Your insights on blending Cordonia's classical architecture with modern design were quite unique and very impressive."
The girl’s face turned scarlet, and she stammered, "Your Majesty… I… I can hardly believe it. Thank you, Your Majesty, Your Highness. I… I swear, I will study hard and bring the best knowledge in the world back to help… to help build a more beautiful Cordonia!"
"We have no doubt you will, Maria," Liam interjected, his smile full of encouragement. "Your success is Cordonia's success. Go and make us proud. And remember, when you return, the doors of this library will always be open to you."
On the other side of the crowd, a young mother excitedly held up her daughter of about five, a beautiful crown of daisies and baby's breath on her head. "Your Majesty! Look, Sofia, it's the Queen!"
Aurora's gaze was immediately captured, and she walked over with a smile. "Hello, Sofia. Your flower crown is so pretty. Did you make it yourself?"
The little girl hid shyly in her mother's arms, whispering proudly, "…It's for you, Your Majesty!"
"Oh?" A flicker of surprised delight crossed Aurora's face. "Thank you. This is the most beautiful gift I have received today." As she spoke, she naturally took the child from her mother's arms, placed a kiss on her chubby cheek, and then carefully handed her back.
All of this was faithfully recorded by the media's cameras. The King and Queen, beloved by their people; Cordonia, prosperous and thriving. The scene was a perfect illustration of the definition of a "Golden Age."
------
Night fell, and the clamor of the day slowly faded. A deep quiet settled over the private chambers of the royal palace.
Aurora helped Liam out of the uniform that symbolized both glory and constraint, and he changed into a soft, comfortable cashmere sweater. She, too, had shed her long gown for a simple silk robe. The faint scent of lavender, prepared by the palace staff to aid their relaxation, filled the air.
"Has Charlotte been asleep?" Liam asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. His voice carried a trace of fatigue, but far more satisfaction.
"Like a little angel," Aurora said with a smile, coming to sit beside him. "Though she insisted on sleeping with that little sword Olivia gave her. She says she wants to dream of becoming as brave as Queen Kenna."
Liam let out a low chuckle at the thought. "That's Olivia. Her gifts are always so… profound." He took Aurora's hand, caressing it gently. "You worked hard today."
"It was nothing," Aurora replied, leaning her head on his shoulder. "To see your mother's wish fulfilled, to see the people so happy… I was truly proud of you. But… today must have brought back many memories of Queen Eleanor for you, didn't it?"
Liam was silent for a moment, then nodded. He stood and walked to the terrace window, gazing out at the moonlit garden.
"Yes," he said, his voice a little distant. "I can almost remember when I was a child, she loved taking me to the library. She used to say that every book held a different world. She would hold me and, in her gentle voice, read me the old legends of knights and dragons."
A bittersweet smile touched his lips. "She always said she hoped I would become a king who protected his kingdom with wisdom, not force. That Cordonia could be a bridge, not a fortress. I have been trying… trying to live up to her vision. But I don't know if she would be pleased with me, if she could see today."
Aurora came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his broad back. "She would be, Liam. She would be immensely proud of you. You haven't just protected this country; you have made it better, more open, more hopeful. You have given the people prosperity and the children a future. You are the ideal king she always envisioned."
Liam turned, pulling his wife into a tight embrace. "Thank you, Aurora. Thank you for always being by my side."
They spoke of their children's future. As the first in line to the throne, Charlotte's life seemed already set in stone.
"I just want her to have a happy childhood, to be as free as possible," Aurora said softly. "We cannot choose her responsibilities for her, but we can at least pave a path for her that is less lonely."
"Yes," Liam sighed. "Beneath the crown lies endless duty. I hope she learns how to balance it all better than I have. And... I don't want her to always be so alone, Aurora." Liam's voice became even more gentle. "And Leo and me... although we had differences before, he has always been my brother. Knowing that he's there makes everything feel so different. I also hope Charlotte can have this support. A brother, or a sister... someone who can share this unique life with her."
Aurora's expression became extremely soft. She turned around and faced her husband, her amber eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I've been thinking about this all along, Liam. Seeing her playing happily with Leo, Katie's children today... I was thinking, could our home be a bit bigger? Could this palace be filled with more laughter?"
Liam's face finally broke into a genuine and warm smile, dispelling the worries that had previously clouded his brows. "More laughter might also mean more troubles," he quipped.
Aurora chuckled and kissed his lips. "As long as it's with you, I don't fear any more troubles. Maybe... we can start looking forward to it?"
Liam held her tighter in his arms. "I'm also looking forward to it, my Queen." His voice was filled with promises and hopes for the future.
------
The hour grew late, but Liam felt no desire for sleep. The day's memories of his mother were like a newly opened vintage wine, its lingering aftertaste keeping his mind from settling. Not wanting to disturb the already sleeping Aurora, he slipped on a robe and went alone to the study in the west wing of the palace.
This had once been his father's study; now, it was his. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and leather. Massive, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were neatly lined with the biographies and treatises of past monarchs.
Liam did not turn on a light, letting the moonlight stream through the large windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor. His gaze finally settled on the portrait hanging in the center of the wall.
It was his mother, Queen Eleanor, painted by the court artist when she was thirty. In the portrait, she wore a gown of silver-white, her golden hair swept up in an elegant coiffure. Her face held a gentle, slightly melancholic smile. She was beautiful, serene and saintly, like a goddess bathed in moonlight.
Liam walked to the portrait and stood before it, gazing. He reached out, his fingertips lightly tracing the cold, carved flowers of the frame.
Just then, a long-forgotten, hazy childhood memory flashed through his mind without warning.
He remembered: a dim afternoon when he was nine years old. For months before that, a joyful anticipation had filled the palace, for his mother was pregnant. He remembered how she would gently stroke her swelling belly and tell him with a smile that he would soon have a little sister, and that he must learn to protect her, like a true knight.
But the memory that surfaced now was from after his sister's birth.
He was standing at the door of the royal nursery, watching his mother, Eleanor, who was seated in a rocking chair in the center of the room. In her arms, she held an infant wrapped in a thick, soft, white swaddling blanket.
The official story was that he had a sister who, shortly after birth, had tragically died due to frailty. In the royal archives, the entry for the princess named Lena was but a few brief sentences. A short, private funeral, closed to the public, had marked the end of her short life. It was known to all as a tragedy for the Rhys family.
But… the scene in his memory was somehow different.
As an eight-year-old boy, he could already clearly discern the emotions of adults. He distinctly remembered his mother holding the swaddled baby, her body trembling slightly. She wasn't crying; she even wore a faint smile, but it was incredibly stiff and did not reach her eyes. Her blue eyes, usually so full of warmth, were now filled with an emotion that he could not fully comprehend then, but which, in retrospect, sent a chill down his spine.
It wasn't the pure grief of a mother who had lost a child.
It was something else… a mixture of profound sorrow and a deeper, all-consuming fear.
That fear, it seemed, was not directed at the fragile life in her arms, but at something unseen, outside the room—something larger, more irresistible. She bent to kiss the bundle, her movements so gentle it was as if she were touching a piece of art that could shatter at any moment, but her eyes were those of a prisoner on her way to the gallows, filled with a desperate plea to hold on to something.
"No… it wasn't that simple…"
Liam muttered the words unconsciously. He shook his head, trying to dispel the sudden chill. He must have remembered it wrong. Perhaps it was a child's memory, muddled with the tragic story he heard later, that had created such an absurd association. He was a king, trained in the strictest logic and history. He believed in evidence and archives, not in a hazy, twenty-year-old childhood vision.
He looked up at the portrait again. The mother in the painting was still so serene, so gentle, haloed in saintly light.
This time, however, Liam could not tear his gaze from her beautiful eyes. He felt as if he could see through the layers of oil paint to what lay hidden behind the smile—the same bottomless sorrow and fear from his memory.
The study was utterly silent, save for the dull, rhythmic ticking of the antique grandfather clock against the wall. The sound was like a relentless countdown for a secret long since buried in dust.
Tagging everyone who showed interest from the SSS post!
Summary: Liam and Riley are in love and are preparing for their wedding but what happens when Riley’s past threatens to destroy that happiness? Will they still say I do?
Riley sits on the balcony staring into the gardens as Liam is in another meeting with some nobles. Riley sighs I’m so tired of staying here locked up like a prisoner. Riley clenches her fists If only that woman didn’t come back into my life why does she even need me there? Why can’t she drown herself in her own bottles? Riley looks at her ring and plays with it smiling I’m so glad I have Liam if it wasn’t for him I don’t know where I’ll be
Riley smiles as she remembers the day she started dating Liam
****
After having the drink at the bar Liam smiles not wanting the nice to end and offers his arm “Come the city is beautiful at this time of year”
Riley smiles as she takes his hand and they walk through the city together “This is beautiful”
“I’m glad you love it”
“So what is it that you do Liam?” Liam’s hold tightens on her arm and he sighs “If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine”
“No I’ll tell you I was just dreading it” He takes a deep breath “I really don’t want to scare you off”
“Is it a like a gang or criminal?”
“No nothing like that more of the government”
“Are you like a politician?”
Liam sighs “I’m a prince soon to be king”
Riley’s eyes go wide “You’re a prince? And you’re gonna be ruling this country?”
“Yeah and I won’t blame you if you if this scares you off”
“No it’s just a surprise you don’t look like a prince where’s your crown”
Liam chuckles “I don’t wear those all the time considering they’re heavy and I like to go out like a normal person”
“I see royal life must get exhausting”
“It does sometimes I wish I could be a regular person this life isn’t all a fairytale”
“I understand I wish my life was like that”
“What do you mean?”
Riley looks away not wanting to remember that pain then smiles “It’s nothing maybe I’ll tell you about it another time”
Liam smirks “Are you hoping for another time?”
“Maybe your royal highness”
Liam chuckles “Honestly this is the most fun I’ve ever had”
“Is it cause of me?”
Liam smiles “Yes it is” His phone buzzes and he sighs “Security team is letting me know it’s getting dark”
“Oh ok”
Liam smiles “But this doesn’t have to be the last time you see me can I have your number?”
“Of course Liam” She pulls out her phone and they give each other’s numbers
****
Riley and Liam begin text and calling everyday and eventually it turns into Liam asking her out.
Liam grins when she says yes and plans the date excessively
Riley giggles as Liam navigates being normal and she helps him out. Many dates later Liam and Riley begin to fall in love and Liam eventually confesses his feelings to her asking her to be his. Riley smiles and confess to him too. Liam grins and they kiss deeply.
Riley eventually decided it was time to tell him about her past. Riley calls up Liam and tells him to come to her apartment. Liam rushes right over and asks what’s wrong.
Riley sighs “Liam if I tell you this you can’t tell anyone else”
Liam nods “Of course Riley I love you” He takes her hand “You can tell me anything”
Riley nods “Well you’ve been asking about my family and I’ve been avoiding it and I’ll tell you now” She takes a deep breath “My dad passed and I was little and after that my mom the woman who loved me the woman who was supposed to protect she turned into this alcoholic abusive woman” Liam’s eyes go wide as she continues “ We had an argument about me going to college and she nearly killed me. I ran away from her after putting sedatives in her beer bottle”
“Oh Riley” Liam pulls her into his arms as she sobs “I’m so sorry love you didn’t deserve that” Liam rubs her shoulders “I hope she hasn’t tried to contact you”
“No a neighbor of mine said when she realized I was gone she heard screaming things breaking and she did knock on her door asking where I was I’m glad the neighbor lied”
“Good that woman won’t go anywhere near you she’s a terrible person grief shouldn’t cause you to turn into that she could have gotten help”
“I’m starting to wonder if she was always like that and the loving mother I knew was just an act”
“Well I’m sure she won’t find you all the way across the country”
“I hope not”
Liam takes her hand “And even if she does I’m here for you”
“Thanks Liam I love you”
“Love you too Riley”
****
Riley continues to sit on the balacony as the doors swing open and Liam walks in grinning as he kisses her cheek “Hello my love” He notices her expression “What’s wrong Riley?”
“Just thinking”
Liam takes her hand “Riley don’t worry Bastien and Lydia are on it they’re gonna find her and arrest her”
“Liam I can’t just be sitting around waiting for them to find her she can show up right behind me and I wouldn’t be prepared”
“So what are you saying?”
Riley clenches her fists “I’m gonna find her myself”
“Riley that’s dangerous”
“Of course I’m gonna be prepared I would love to do training make sure I’m ready to fight”
Liam looks at her then nods “Ok but if you find her make sure you don’t face her alone”
“I won’t”
Riley looks up a determined look on her face I’m gonna find that bitch and finish what I started
Warnings – Mention of sexual assault, victim blaming.
The transition into winter did not arrive with a whisper, but with a profound, breathless silence that blanketed the entire Royal Palace overnight.
The pale gold of the morning sun spilled effortlessly across the brilliant, crisp blue sky, casting a dazzling glare over the flawless coat of fresh snow that lay thick over the Cordonian capital. The world was utterly still, as if the cold had frozen time itself, capturing the estate in a quiet, sparkling tranquillity.
Stepping to the towering glass doors of her balcony, Emilia pressed her hand against the cool pane, her warm breath immediately blossoming into a delicate cloud of mist on the glass. She blinked against the clean, blinding glare of the white landscape. It was a winter wonderland, breathtakingly beautiful, offering a quiet, clean slate that seemed to soothe the raw edges of her spirit.
Below her, the grand palace gardens had been completely transformed. The rows of frost-hardy chrysanthemums that had fought so bravely against the autumn chill were now buried beneath a thick, heavy duvet of snow, their colourful faces entirely hidden. The towering, ornate fountains, which had spent the summer splashing music into the warm air, stood completely silent, the water in their wide stone basins frozen into smooth, glittering pools of ice that caught the morning light like polished mirrors.
Further out, the great hedge maze looked like a labyrinth of sculpted marble, its high, dark green walls capped in thick, pristine ridges of white. Every perfect line and sharp angle was softened by the snow, making the maze look less like an impenetrable fortress and more like a peaceful, sleeping giant.
Adjacent to the maze, the woodland area was a study in stark contrasts. The skeletal branches of the ancient oaks, stripped bare by the autumn winds, were now outlined in delicate, sparkling ice, reaching up toward the brilliant blue heavens like fragile fingers of glass. Beside them, the dark, stoic pines bowed their heavy branches under the weight of the snow, releasing quiet, soft flurries to the ground whenever the biting winter wind dared to whisper through their needles.
Running straight through the heart of the estate, the long gravel drive was slowly being reclaimed from the winter. Below the balcony, a solitary palace gardener was already at work, the rhythmic, scraping sound of his shovel clearing a path through the heavy white powder.
Emilia watched him for a long moment, observing the steam rise from his lips as he worked. As if sensing her gaze, the gardener paused, wiping his brow before looking up toward her balcony. Emilia didn't draw back into the shadows of her room. Instead, a genuine, soft smile brushed her lips, and she raised her hand, offering a gentle wave.
The gardener's face lit up, and he quickly returned the wave with a wide, respectful smile and a small bow before returning to his work.
Emilia wrapped her heavy velvet robe tighter around her shoulders, but for the first time in months, she didn't shiver. The world outside was cold, yes, but it was blanketed in a peaceful, healing quiet. As she stared down at the snow-covered lawns directly beneath her balcony, the familiar, aching hollow in her chest felt... lighter.
She no longer hovered anxiously by her door at the sound of Rose’s morning footsteps, her pulse racing with a desperate, agonizing hope that only crashed into devastation when the silver mail tray proved empty. She had stopped checking the post with that frantic, trembling urgency. The raw, bleeding wound of those early autumn months had finally closed, leaving behind a quiet, tender ache. She still wished, with a soft and persistent sadness, that a letter would arrive. She still carried the quiet, heavy shape of Drake’s absence in every breath, a steady, physical pull in her chest that anchored her to the memory of him, and there wasn't a single day where he didn't occupy the quiet corners of her mind and heart. She still loved him with a desperate, soul-consuming intensity, and she knew she always would.
But the furious, destructive anger that had consumed her on the night of the Homecoming Ball had finally burned itself out. In its place was a quiet, sober acceptance of the silence. She had come to terms with the reality of their separate worlds. She had accepted the heart-breaking possibility that Drake had simply chosen to move on—to build a new, uncomplicated life for himself across the border that didn't involve the impossible, suffocating reach of a Cordonian princess and her crown.
It was a deep, permanent bruise on her soul, but she was learning to live with the grief. She was carrying her love for him like a warm coal beneath the winter snow, keeping her spirit alive rather than letting the sorrow freeze her completely.
Stepping away from the towering balcony doors, Emilia let the quiet warmth of her suite envelop her. She walked slowly toward the ornate mahogany vanity, her bare feet pressing into the plush, thick carpet. Sitting down on the cushioned stool, she picked up her silver-backed hairbrush, letting the rhythmic, soothing motion of the bristles sliding through her golden curls ground her in the quiet morning.
As she raised her arm, her heavy velvet robe parted slightly at her collarbone.
There, resting against the soft skin of her chest, was Drake’s silver ring, catching the pale gold of the morning sun.
Emilia’s hand paused, her breath catching in her throat—not in panic, but in a sudden, sweet wave of quiet affection. She set the brush down on the cool glass tabletop, her hand drifting instinctively to her neck. Her fingertips curled around the familiar, worn metal, and a soft, genuine smile played on her lips. She hadn't taken it off, not for a single moment, since she had gotten it back.
As the cool silver warmed against her skin, her mind drifted backward, slipping effortlessly into the memory of the morning she had reclaimed it.
Two Months Earlier
The morning after the Homecoming Ball had arrived with a sharp, crisp bite. The dew was heavy, clinging to the grass blades in the palace gardens like tiny, liquid glass beads, and a thin layer of frost dusted the stone paths.
Liam Rhys stood near the edge of the formal garden beds directly beneath Emilia’s private balcony, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his structured charcoal wool overcoat. The collar was turned up slightly against the biting breeze, and his boots crunched softly as he shifted his weight on the gravel. He wore a simple, dark green knit sweater beneath his coat, looking rugged yet effortlessly elegant in the pale morning light.
He was waiting.
When his mother had first written to him in Italy, practically commanding his return to Cordonia to attend the social season and meet Princess Emilia, Liam had let out a long, defeated sigh. He had assumed she would be like all the rest of the debutantes—hollow, pretentious, and entirely consumed by the superficial glitter of court gossip and inherited titles. He had expected to meet a fragile, porcelain doll of a girl with a practiced smile and nothing of substance behind her eyes.
But Emilia had completely shattered every single one of his expectations.
She wasn't like them at all. Over the course of the previous evening, and their quiet escape on the terrace, he had discovered a woman who was remarkable. She was smart, carrying a sharp, observant wit that kept him on his toes. She was funny, possessing a quick, feisty spark that refused to be dimmed by the stifling protocol of her father’s court. And she was so unbelievably beautiful—not with the empty, painted perfection of the other noblewomen, but with a vibrant, raw, and fiercely genuine fire.
Yet, beneath that spark, Liam had noticed a deep, quiet sadness clinging to her. It was in the way her eyes lingered on the dark horizon, and the faint, guarded tension in her shoulders. She had told him she had been through a very difficult few months. Liam hadn't pushed for details; it wasn't his business to pry, and he respected her privacy too much to demand explanations she wasn't ready to give. He suspected, more than anything, that she was profoundly lonely. In a court full of vultures and sycophants, there were only a select few she could truly trust. She could use a friend—a real, unyielding anchor who wanted nothing from her but her company. And Liam was more than happy to be that friend.
The soft rustle of dry leaves caught his attention.
Liam turned, a warm, genuine smile instantly gracing his lips as he saw Emilia walking down the gravel path toward him.
The morning chill had painted a delicate, rosy flush across her cheeks. She was dressed warmly, wearing a tailored, forest-green wrap coat that hugged her waist, with a soft cream cashmere scarf looped snugly around her neck. Her hair, free from the rigid curls of the previous night, was pinned back simply, a few loose strands framing her face and dancing in the wind. She looked breathtakingly real, a stark and lovely contrast to the cold limestone walls of the palace behind her.
As she reached him, her eyes met his, and for the first time since he had met her, the heavy shadow in her gaze seemed to lift, if only by a fraction.
"Good morning, Liam," she said, her voice soft in the quiet air.
"Good morning, Emilia," he replied, taking his hands from his pockets and bowing his head slightly in greeting. "You're exceptionally punctual for someone who survived a royal homecoming ball."
Emilia let out a small, genuine laugh, the sound clear and bright against the autumn chill. "I could say the same to you. I half-expected you to have fled back to Rome by sunrise."
"It wasn’t for want of trying," Liam joked, a playful, warm spark dancing in his ice-blue eyes. "But I was informed my flight was cancelled. High winds, apparently. Or perhaps a sudden, tragic lack of willpower."
Emilia's laugh rang out again, a lighter, happier sound than she had produced in months.
Liam watched her, his smile softening into something deeper. There was a quiet touch of longing in his gaze, a silent appreciation for the easy way she fit into the morning air. "In all honesty, Emilia... I'm actually enjoying myself here far more than I ever expected to."
Emilia met his eyes, and the sincerity she found there made a small, fragile warmth blossom in her chest. She simply smiled back, a quiet, unspoken understanding passing between them.
"Right, well," Liam said, clearing his throat gently to break the spell. "Let's find that necklace of yours."
"Let's," Emilia agreed, her smile widening.
They moved toward the garden beds directly beneath her private balcony, stepping carefully onto the damp lawn. The grass was crisp underfoot, crackling softly with the morning frost. They bent down, parting the cold, heavy leaves of the slumbering chrysanthemums and scanning the dark, damp earth.
As they searched, the silence of the morning was filled only by the rustle of dry leaves and their own steady breathing. Emilia glanced over at him, feeling a sudden, deep swell of gratitude.
"Thank you again, Liam, for offering to help me with this," she called out, brushing a stray dirt particle from her sleeve. "I'm sure there are many other ways you would have preferred to spend your first morning back in the capital."
"Not at all," Liam replied, shrugging his broad shoulders as he peered beneath a low-hanging evergreen branch. "Besides, I'll have you know that I was the undisputed champion of the family scavenger hunt as a child. I'd be highly remiss if I didn't put my legendary skills to good use for the Princess."
Emilia laughed, the sound warm and clear. "Well, I certainly hope those legendary skills are at their absolute best today. I honestly don't know what I'll do if we don't find that ring."
Liam paused, straightening up. His brow furrowed in mild, amused confusion. "Ring? I thought we were looking for a necklace."
Emilia froze, her cheeks instantly burning with a delicate, rosy flush that had nothing to do with the autumn wind. She bit her lip, cursing her slip of the tongue, before letting out a soft, defeated sigh.
"We are. Sort of," she confessed quietly, looking down at her hands. "It's... it's a silver ring. I wear it on a chain around my neck. It's incredibly important to me."
Liam looked at her, his blue eyes soft and entirely devoid of judgment. He took in her flushed cheeks and the protective, almost fragile way her fingers had drifted to her collarbone. "I assume," he said gently, his voice carrying a quiet, respectful warmth, "whoever gave you this ring is very important to you?"
Emilia’s throat tightened. The image of Drake—his fierce hazel eyes, his rough calloused hands, and his easy, lopsided smile—flashed behind her eyelids, sending a sharp, sweet ache straight to her heart.
"He is," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the breeze. "He... he was."
Liam didn't pry. He didn't ask for a name, a status, or an explanation for why the ring was lost in the dirt. He simply offered her a reassuring, comforting smile that seemed to wrap around her like a blanket.
"We'll find it, Emilia," he promised, his voice firm and steady. "Even if I have to stay out here until the sun goes down and come back again tomorrow. I'm not leaving until it's safely back where it belongs."
Emilia’s heart swelled. The sheer, unyielding decency of his words brought a sudden sheen of tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back, offering him a brilliant, genuine smile. "Thank you, Liam."
They returned to the search with a renewed, quiet focus. Emilia felt a profound sense of relief settling over her spirit. Liam didn't look at her with the fragile, suffocating pity she had grown so tired of receiving from her friends. He simply accepted her as she was, standing by her side as a steady, quiet anchor.
They searched for another ten minutes, moving deeper into the shadows of the formal boxwood hedges, when Liam suddenly gasped.
"Ah-ha! I think I have something."
Emilia’s heart stopped. She spun around, her breath catching in her throat as she watched Liam bend low, reaching deep beneath the thick, frost-dusted branches of a large chrysanthemum bush.
When he pulled his hand back, a glint of bright silver caught the morning sun.
The delicate silver chain hung from his fingers, and dangling securely at the bottom was Drake’s worn, heavy ring.
A breathless sob of pure relief broke from Emilia's throat. Tears finally spilled over her lashes as she scrambled across the damp grass to his side. She snatched the chain from his open palm, clutching the cold metal tightly against her chest as if she could pull its warmth straight into her soul. She tipped her head back toward the brilliant blue sky, a dazzling, tear-stained smile breaking across her face.
"Oh, thank God," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Thank you, Liam. Thank you so much."
Liam stood up, brushing a few stray leaves from his knees. The sight of her radiant, tearful joy made his own chest tighten with a quiet, profound warmth.
"It was no problem at all, Emilia," he said softly, his blue eyes holding hers. "I'm here for you. Anytime."
Emilia looked down at the ring in her hand, her heart hammering a steady, triumphant rhythm. The metal was cold against her palm, but she knew that beneath her skin, the memory of Drake would always burn warm. She carefully slid the chain and the ring into the deep, secure pocket of her coat, gently patting the wool to make sure it was safe.
Then, she turned back to Liam. The sheer weight of what he had done for her—without question, without expectation—overwhelmed her defences.
Stepping forward, Emilia wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight, incredibly warm hug.
Liam froze in surprise for a fraction of a second before his arms came up, wrapping securely around her waist to pull her close. He leaned into the embrace, inhaling the sweet, complex scent of jasmine and fresh linen that clung to her hair and her skin. It was a perfect, grounding moment of comfort in the quiet garden.
As they slowly pulled back, Liam offered her a soft, boyish grin.
"It was entirely worth it," he whispered, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "just to see you smile."
Slowly, the golden-hued memory of that crisp autumn morning faded, gently pulling Emilia back to the present.
She blinked, focusing on her reflection in the heavy mahogany vanity mirror. The pale, winter-bright light of the morning poured through her balcony doors, illuminating the quiet warmth of her suite. Down in her palm, Drake’s silver ring had grown warm, absorbing the heat of her skin. She smiled softly, tracing the worn metal one last time. Slowly, she raised the band to her lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the familiar silver, letting its smooth shape anchor her heart. With a quiet breath, she let it rest back against her collarbone, tucking it safely beneath the soft velvet of her robe.
She picked up her hairbrush again, but her mind remained anchored in the quiet gratitude she felt for the young lord who had helped her find it.
Liam hadn't left after that day.
As the social season had swung into full, exhausting motion, it was entirely customary for the heads of the Great Houses and their eligible heirs to take up semi-permanent residence in the sprawling guest wings of the Royal Palace. It spared them the daily limo rides from their grand estates and kept them in the direct orbit of the King's favour. When Liam had quietly informed her that he had accepted her father's invitation to stay at the palace for the duration of the social season, Emilia had felt a profound, genuine wave of relief wash over her.
She had desperately needed a friend, and Liam had stepped into that empty, echoing space in her life with an effortless, unpressured grace.
Over the last two months, they had become nearly inseparable. When the suffocating protocol of the court threatened to choke her, Liam was always there, offering a quiet escape.
Emilia closed her eyes, a warm, genuine smile gracing her lips as she recalled their afternoon rides. They would escape the palace gates on horseback, tearing through the crisp, leaf-strewn valley trails of the royal estate. She remembered the powerful, rhythmic stride of her horse beneath her, the biting wind stinging her cheeks and whipping her loose curls into a wild tangle. Liam would ride alongside her, his laughter rich and free, a brilliant contrast to the rigid, silent guards who trailed at a respectful distance. Up in the hills, away from the watchful eyes of the King, they would pull their horses to a halt, letting the animals breathe as they looked out over the sprawling capital, sharing a comfortable, healing silence that required no performances.
And then there were the walks. Even as the autumn gold withered into grey December frost, they would bundle up in heavy wool coats and cashmere scarves, walking the winding paths of the formal gardens. Liam would listen to her—really listen—whenever she spoke, never looking at her with the fragile, suffocating pity she had grown so tired of receiving from Hana or Olivia. Nor did he ever look at her with the hungry, predatory appraisal she so routinely endured from the other eligible bachelors of the court, who treated her like a prize to be won or an asset to be calculated for their family lines. With Liam, there were no hidden agendas, no suffocating expectations, and no prying eyes. He simply met her where she was, offering a steady, unyielding presence that helped ground her fluttering spirit.
But perhaps her favourite memories were of the endless, tedious balls.
Emilia opened her eyes, her smile widening as she recalled the sheer, ridiculousness they had managed to find in the middle of her father's glittering cage. During one particularly stuffy banquet, trapped at a table between a pompous duke and an incredibly dry minister, she had caught Liam’s icy-blue eyes from across the room. He had offered her a barely perceptible, deadpan raise of his eyebrow, nodding toward a minor count who was currently asleep in his soup.
They had taken to finding quiet corners during those long nights, standing near the heavy velvet drapes with champagne flutes in hand. In hushed, conspiratorial whispers, they would make fun of the preening nobility, sharing a private world of quiet, breathless laughter. They would dissect Lord Thorne's increasingly ridiculous, towering wigs, or predict exactly how many minutes Lady Vescovi could hold her breath while trying to look poised in her suffocating corset.
In a room full of vultures and sycophants, Liam had become her sanctuary. He had shown her that she could still laugh, that she could still find joy, and that she didn't have to carry the crushing weight of her heartbreak entirely alone.
He hadn't made her forget Drake—nothing ever could, and she still carried the quiet, heavy shape of his absence in every beat of her heart. But Liam had made the winter feel warm. He had made her existence feel like a life again, rather than a death sentence.
*****
A short while later, a soft, tentative knock rattled the heavy ornate wood of the door, breaking the quiet sanctuary of the suite.
Emilia paused, her silver hairbrush resting against her curls. "Come in," she called out, her voice calm and even.
The door groaned open, and Queen Eleanor stepped inside. She wore a beautifully tailored, slate-blue wool day dress, her posture as impeccably straight and statuesque as ever, but her eyes held a soft, searching warmth.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Eleanor said gently, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
"Good morning, Mother," Emilia smiled, turning slightly on her cushioned vanity stool to face her.
Eleanor crossed the room, her elegant heels sinking silently into the plush carpet, and stood beside her daughter, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I just wanted to see how you are. You seem to have been very busy recently. The winter social season is always a whirlwind, of course." She offered a soft, knowing smile.
"It is," Emilia laughed softly, setting her brush down on the glass-topped vanity. "But in all honesty, it's been fun. Better than usual, actually."
Eleanor watched her daughter’s face closely, noting the subtle brightness in her eyes—a light that had been missing for so many painful months. A small, knowing smile played on her lips. "Does that have anything to do with Lord Rhys?"
Emilia turned to face her mother fully, her cheeks warming with a delicate, shy flush. "It does," she admitted softly, her fingers tracing a fold of her velvet robe. "He’s a wonderful man, Mother. He’s kind, and he’s funny, and... well, he’s nothing like the other men at court. He's been an incredibly good friend to me."
"I’m glad," Eleanor murmured, her thumb gently caressing Emilia’s shoulder. She paused, her voice dropping to a tentative, delicate whisper. "Is... is that all it is, darling?"
"Yes," Emilia replied without hesitation, her gaze steady and honest. "I like him, Mother. A lot. He is a truly wonderful person. But he’s a friend, and that’s all."
Eleanor smiled, a soft knowing expression crossing her features, though she remained quiet, waiting.
"Besides," Emilia added, turning back toward the mirror to pick up her hairbrush, "I owe him a lot."
Eleanor’s brow furrowed slightly in mild confusion. "What do you mean, sweetheart? What do you owe him?"
Emilia let out a long, heavy sigh, setting the brush back down. She turned back to her mother, her expression softening into something intensely raw and honest. "Before I met him, Mother, I was drowning. The grief... it was consuming me entirely. I hadn’t heard from Drake, and my heart... it was completely broken. It still is, in many ways. I love Drake. I always will. He is the love of my life, and nothing will ever change that."
Eleanor’s chest tightened, a quiet pang of sorrow reflecting in her eyes, but she didn't interrupt.
"But the grief... it isn't controlling me anymore," Emilia continued, her voice gaining a quiet, mature strength. "I've accepted the reality of things. I've accepted that perhaps all of this—" she gestured around the room, “—the Crown, my title, the constant, suffocating reach of this life—perhaps it was just too much for him to carry after what Father did to him. And I can’t blame him for that. I can’t blame him for choosing a life where he can breathe. But what we had... I will never forget what it felt like to be loved by him. I'll never forget him. But the pain isn't as raw now. And I think a lot of that healing had to do with Liam. He was simply there for me when I desperately needed someone."
"I am so glad to hear it, Emilia," Eleanor whispered, her eyes shining with a rare, watery sincerity. "You deserve peace, my love."
"Plus..." Emilia started, her voice suddenly tightening as a sharp flash of anger and anxiety crossed her features. "The night of the Homecoming Ball... Liam saved me."
Eleanor’s posture instantly stiffened, her hand tightening on Emilia’s shoulder. "He saved you? From what?"
Emilia let out a ragged breath, her fingers tightening into fists in her lap. "I went out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air. I was upset, and... Lord Tariq and Neville Vancouer followed me out. They cornered me, Mother. They actively, physically backed me against the freezing stone balustrade so I couldn't escape. They were... insistent. They made disgusting, suggestive comments about how they could act as my 'comfort,' and how they could help me forget all about Drake."
Eleanor’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in absolute horror. "They did what?"
"Nothing happened," Emilia said quickly, trying to soothe the sudden, violent panic in her mother’s eyes. "Thanks to Liam. He came outside for a break from the formalities just before they could do anything. He challenged them. They actually attacked him, but Liam fought them both off effortlessly. He pinned Neville against the wall and told them if they ever spoke to me, looked at me, or came near me again, he would make them deeply regret it. And they haven't bothered me since, thankfully. But... I don't know what would have happened if he hadn’t stepped onto the terrace when he did."
"Emilia..." Eleanor’s voice trembled, a mixture of terror and white-hot maternal instinct vibrating in her throat. "Why did you never say anything? Does your father know?"
Emilia let out a harsh, bitter scoff, her jaw setting into a cold, hard line of pure disdain. "No, Mother. I never told him. What would be the point?"
"What do you mean, what would be the point?!" Eleanor cried softly, her voice cracking. "You can’t allow them to get away with this!"
"I haven’t. Liam hasn’t. But you know exactly what Father is like," Emilia spat, the words dripping with a deep, permanent resentment. "That man has proven, over and over again, that all he cares about are appearances, alliances, and duty. He would have brushed my complaint off as me being 'too sensitive.' He would have told me I was overreacting, or that I had misunderstood their 'gentlemanly' advances as something more sinister. He would have protected Tariq’s family line and Neville’s standing before he ever protected me. That’s why I never told him about Applewood, either."
Eleanor froze, the air leaving her lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. "What about Applewood, Emilia?"
Emilia looked up at her mother, her eyes entirely devoid of fear, filled only with the bitter truth of her reality. "Tariq tried to force himself on me there, too. Before you and Father even arrived at the estate. He insisted on walking me to my suite after dinner, and the moment we were alone, he pinned me against my door and kissed me. I tried to push him off, I told him no, but he completely ignored me. He thought his title gave him the right to take whatever he wanted. Luckily, I managed to knock some sense into him when I slapped him across the face and threatened to ruin his family line if he didn't leave."
"He... he did what?!"
Eleanor’s voice was no longer a royal whisper. It was a low, dangerous hiss, her face contorting into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. The pristine, stoic queen was completely gone, shattered by the visceral, protective rage of a mother whose child had been hunted in her own home.
"It’s okay, Mother," Emilia said quietly, her voice entirely calm. "I handled it."
"It is absolutely not okay, Emilia!" Eleanor said, her chest heaving as a fierce, dangerous fire flared in her eyes. "How dare he? How dare he touch you? How dare they treat the Princess of this country—my daughter—like prey in our own palaces?!"
"Mother, please. I’m okay," Emilia insisted, reaching up to gently squeeze her mother's hand. "Neither of them have dared to look in my direction since the Homecoming Ball. Liam made sure of that. I’m safe."
Eleanor took a long, trembling breath, forcing her shoulders back as she fought to rein in the violent anger threatening to tear through her regal composure. She looked down at her daughter, her eyes softening with a fierce, protective devotion. "Well... I am endlessly glad you have Liam looking out for you. Are... are you seeing him today?"
Emilia offered a soft, genuine smile. "Yes. We’re going for a walk in the hedge maze."
"Good," Eleanor murmured, her voice tight but loving. "I will leave you to get dressed, then."
She leaned down, pulling Emilia into a tight, fierce hug, holding her as if she could shield her from the entire world. "Are you absolutely sure you are okay, Emilia?"
Emilia smiled against her mother’s shoulder. "Yes, Mother. I'm fine. Truly."
Eleanor pulled back, gently kissing her daughter's hair. "That is all that matters."
With a stiff, precise nod, Eleanor turned and left the suite. But the moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind her, the fragile restraint she had forced herself to maintain shattered completely.
The cold, calculated anger came flooding back, hot and merciless. She stood in the empty, gilded hallway, her breathing shallow, her hands clenching into tight, trembling fists at her sides.
They had dared to touch her daughter. Constantine had allowed this toxic, predatory behaviour to fester in his court, all for the sake of political alliances and empty sashes. He had banished the only man who had ever truly loved and protected their daughter, leaving her vulnerable to the wolves.
Turning on her heel, Eleanor did not walk. She marched. Her heavy wool skirts hissed violently against her silk stockings, and her heels struck the ground with a rhythmic, thunderous cadence of pure, unyielding fury as she headed straight toward the King's private study.
*****
The heavy oak doors of the King’s private study did not merely open; they were violently breached.
Eleanor did not wait for an invitation, nor did she heed the startled glance of the royal guard stationed at the end of the hall. She pushed through the threshold, her wool day dress rustling with a sharp, heavy cadence before she slammed the heavy door shut behind her. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet, mahogany-panelled room.
King Constantine sat behind his sprawling desk, a gold-nibbed pen suspended mid-air over a stack of state papers. He blinked, a flash of genuine surprise breaking through his formidable, carefully cultivated mask.
It had been months since she had spoken to him with anything resembling warmth. Ever since their return from Applewood—and the brutal banishment of the Walker boy—a freezing, impenetrable wall had risen between them. Eleanor had retreated entirely to her own private wing, refusing to share their marital suite, and had spoken to him only when the strict demands of public protocol required it. She had made herself a ghost in his bed, but a silent, mocking jury in his court.
But now, she was entirely, terrifyingly alive. Her chest heaved, her knuckles white as she gripped the back of a leather visitor's chair, her eyes burning with a white-hot fury that made him instinctively straighten his spine.
"Eleanor?" Constantine asked, his voice tight but attempting to maintain a calm, kingly authority. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"
"Our daughter," Eleanor said, her voice vibrating with a low, dangerous tremor that made the crystal decanters on the sideboard hum, "has just informed me that certain members of your court have tried to force themselves on her."
Constantine’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting from surprise to a dismissive, defensive annoyance. He set his pen down with a quiet tap. "Excuse me?"
"Lord Tariq attacked her at Applewood," Eleanor spat, the words cutting through the quiet room like broken glass. "He forced himself on her in the hallway. He pinned her against her own suite door and kissed her, and when she told him no, when she actively struggled against him, he completely ignored her. She had to physically push him off and slap him across the face to make him stop. And then, at the Homecoming Ball, he tried again. With Neville Vancouer in tow that time around."
Constantine stared at her for a silent, agonizing heartbeat. His jaw worked, but his expression did not soften into horror. Instead, he leaned back in his leather chair, letting out a heavy, tired sigh.
"Oh," he murmured, waving a dismissive hand. "Right."
Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, her vision temporarily blurring with a wave of sheer, unadulterated disgust. "Right? Right? Is that all you have to say to me, Constantine? Right?!"
"Eleanor, be reasonable," Constantine said, his tone flat and clinical, as if he were discussing a minor trade dispute rather than the assault of his daughter. "I am sure Emilia was mistaken. I am sure it was simply Tariq’s way of trying to court her. She is a beautiful girl, and she is the heir to the throne. Suitors will be aggressive. She must have given him some indication, however subtle, that his advances would be welcomed."
"Are you serious right now?!" Eleanor’s voice cracked, a raw, maternal scream ripping through her regal throat. She slammed her hand down on the edge of his desk, scattering several diplomatic briefs. "Constantine, if Emilia had not found the physical strength to push him off at Applewood, if Liam Rhys had not been there to physically fight them off at the Homecoming Ball, they could have raped her! Do you understand that?! They cornered her against a freezing stone balustrade and trapped her!"
"I am sure it would not have come to that," Constantine muttered, his eyes darting toward the closed door, clearly concerned that the guards outside would hear his wife's shouts.
"She is your daughter!" Eleanor cried, tears of pure rage finally spilling over her lashes. "She is the future Queen of this country, and those animals have no right touching her like that! They have no right touching any woman like that! What is wrong with you?!"
Constantine stood up abruptly, his broad chest rising as his own anger began to flare, matching her heat. He slammed his palms onto the mahogany desk, leaning forward. "They are men, Eleanor! They are noblemen of the court, and they have needs. They are young, they are wealthy, and they are navigating the traditional games of the social season."
Eleanor stepped back, looking at him as if he were a complete stranger. The disgust in her stomach turned into a physical sickness, cold and oily.
"How dare you," she whispered, her voice dropping to a deadly, shaking hiss. "How dare you turn this around to make it sound as if they did nothing wrong. You sit there and pardon their predatory, disgusting behaviour because... why? Because Tariq is a Lord and Neville is the son of the Prime Minister? Because punishing them would damage your precious, fragile alliances with their families? What about the damage to our daughter?!"
She took a step closer, her eyes locked onto his, refusing to let him look away.
"Are you seriously going to allow these beasts to remain at court, where she has to see them day in and day out, whilst you thought absolutely nothing of brutally beating and banishing the one man in this world who she actually loves? The one man who made her happy, and who would have protected her with his very life, simply because he lacked a noble title?!"
Constantine’s face went purple, a vein throbbing violently at his temple. "Drake Walker had no right touching her!" he roared, pointing a trembling finger at his wife. "Do not speak of that peasant in this room! He had no right being anywhere near the future Queen! He was a servant who dared to think he was our equal!"
"That man was the love of Emilia's life!" Eleanor shouted back, her voice ringing with a fierce, absolute truth. "And he has more right to a title of honour than any of the predatory cowards you choose to protect in your court! The men you insist on shielding because of your pathetic alliances! I want him gone, Constantine. Lord Tariq. I want him stripped of his title, and I want out of this palace."
Constantine let out a harsh, bitter laugh, straightening up and smoothing the lapels of his suit jacket. "Eleanor, do not be hysterical. The man is a layabout, yes, and perhaps his manners are... lacking. But his family, his house, are incredibly important to the Crown."
"More important than your daughter?!" Eleanor spat, her eyes flashing with a cold, terrifying clarity. "She is the Crown, Constantine! And you have spent her entire life forcing her into the role of a monarch, never letting her forget her duty. If you insist on treating her like a chess piece, you should at least have the decency to protect her above all else! And you can start with that animal. I want Tariq gone. If you refuse, Constantine, I swear to you..."
She stepped back toward the door, her hand resting on the brass handle. Her posture was incredibly straight, her expression a mask of pure, unyielding iron.
"...I will make sure everyone in this court—every duke, every count, and every foreign diplomat—knows exactly what kind of criminals and rapists you are willing to protect to keep your crown. I will burn this court to the ground myself."
Before Constantine could speak, Eleanor turned on her heel and slipped out of the room, slamming the heavy oak door behind her with a thunderous crack that rattled the paintings on the walls.
Constantine stood frozen behind his desk, his face red, his breathing shallow and laboured. His hands trembled slightly as he slowly sank back into his leather chair. He was furious at his wife's unprecedented outburst—outraged that she would dare threaten him, the King, with such public ruin.
But as the silence of the study slowly settled around him, and his erratic breathing began to steady, a cold, calculating pragmatism began to take hold.
He hated being dictated to, but he was a statesman first. He knew Eleanor’s threat was not empty; she was the Queen, immensely respected by the nobility and adored by the public. If she chose to expose Tariq's behaviour, the scandal would not just destroy Tariq—it would destabilize the entire monarchy, framing the King as a protector of predators.
He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he thought of Emilia.
He had noticed a distinct change in his daughter over the last two months. When he had first banished Drake Walker, she had been hysterical, unreasonable, and entirely difficult. She still hadn't forgiven him—she likely never would—but since the start of the social season, she had finally begun to carry herself like a princess again. She was smiling, she was attending events, and she was no longer dragging her feet.
And Constantine knew exactly why. Liam Rhys.
The young Lord of House Rhys had been a constant, steady presence by her side. Liam was a spectacular match—influential, wealthy, and brilliant. Constantine was highly pleased by the connection. But if Tariq and Neville continued to crowd Emilia, if they tried to corner her again, the resulting chaos could ruin the match entirely. It could send Emilia spiralling back into the destructive grief he had worked so hard to crush.
Perhaps this newfound, fragile peace she had found was something he needed to protect. Not out of fatherly love, but out of absolute, calculated survival for the Crown's future. Tariq was a liability.
Constantine reached out, his hand steady as he picked up the receiver of his desk phone. He dialled the downstairs office.
"Yes," the King said, his voice cold, flat, and carrying a quiet, lethal authority. "Please inform Lord Tariq Ahmad that I wish to speak with him in my study. Urgently."
He replaced the receiver with a quiet click, resting his chin on his steepled fingers as he waited.
